GIFT  OF 
George  Lansing:  Raymond 


POETRY 


AS  A 


REPRESENTATIVE  ART 

AN  ESSAY  IN 

COMPARATIVE  .ESTHETICS 


BY 

GEORGE  LANSING  RAYMOND,  L.H.D. 

PROFESSOR  OF  AESTHETICS  IN  PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  ORATOR'S  MANUAL,"  "ART  IN  THEORY,"  "THE  REPRESENTATIVE 

SIGNIFICANCE  OF  FORM,"  "  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE  AS 

REPRESENTATIVE  ARTS,"  "THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM,"  "RHYTHM 

AND  HARMONY  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC,"  "  PROPORTION  AND 

HARMONY    OF    LINE    AND    COLOR   IN    PAINTING, 
SCULPTURE,   AND   ARCHITECTURE,"  ETC. 


SEVENTH  EDITION  REVISED 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

Ifcnfcfcerbocfcer  {press 


COPYRIGHT,  1886 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

Revised  Edition 
COPYRIGHT,  1899 

BY 
,r  i        G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Made  in  the  United  States  of  America 


PREFACE. 


TTHIS  work  is  intended  to  be  complete  in  itself,  devel- 
oping  from  beginning  to  end  the  whole  subject  of 
which  it  treats.  But  this  subject  is  a  part  of  a  larger 
one,  connected  with  which  are  many  underlying  principles 
and  practical  inferences  not  mentioned  here,  although 
some  of  them,  apparently,  are  not  outside  even  of  the 
limited  range  of  discussion  prescribed  for  this  book  by  its 
title.  To  obviate  the  criticism  which  the  omission  of  any 
reference  to  these  may  naturally  occasion,  it  seems  well 
to  state  that  Poetry  as  a  Representative  Art  is  only  one  of 
a  series  of  volumes  unfolding  the  general  subject  of  Com- 
parative ^Esthetics  in  the  following  order : 

Art  in  Theory,  dealing  with  the  distinctions  between 
nature  and  art ;  between  the  useful  and  the  beautiful  as 
in  aesthetic  art ;  the  different  theories  held  concerning 
the  latter,  and  their  effects  upon  its  products ;  the  true 
theory,  its  philosophic  aspects,  and  the  classification  of  the 
arts  as  determined  by  it. 

The  Representative  Significance  of  Form,  discussing  the 
kinds  of  truth  derivable  from  nature  and  from  man ;  the 
distinctions  between  religious,  scientific,  and  artistic  truth  ; 
between  different  phases  of  the  latter  developed  in  the 
epic,  the  realistic,  and  the  dramatic,  as  expressed  in  all  the 
arts;  and  as  differently  expressed  in  the  different  arts, 
with  illustrations  showing  the  importance  of  making  these 


X  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

distinctions.  The  further  relations  of  the  same  subject  to 
each  of  the  arts  considered  separately  are  unfolded  in  three 
essays,  namely : 

Poetry  as  a  Representative  Art ; 

Music  as  a  Representative  Art,  printed  for  convenience 
in  the  volume  treating  of  Rhythm  and  Harmony ;  and 

Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture  as  Representative 
Arts. 

The  Genesis  of  Art-Form  traces  the  derivation  of  the 
elements  of  form  from  their  sources  in  mind  or  matter 
and  the  development,  according  to  mental  and  physical 
requirements,  of  these  elements  so  as  to  produce,  when 
combined,  the  different  art-forms.  The  volume  directs 
attention  to  the  characteristics  of  form  essential  to  aes- 
thetic effects  in  all  the  arts.  The  characteristics  essential 
to  each  of  the  arts  considered  in  itself,  are  discussed  in 
two  volumes  completing  the  series,  namely : 

Rhythm  and  Harmony  in  Poetry  and  Music  ;  and 

Proportion  and  Harmony  of  Line  and  Color  in  Painting, 
Sculpture,  and  Architecture. 

The  author  wishes  to  express  his  indebtedness  to  Messrs. 
D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  and  others, 
for  their  kind  permission  to  insert  in  this  work  certain  en- 
tire poems,  of  which  they  hold  the  copyrights. 

Altered  from  the  Preface  to  the  First  Edition, 
PRINCETON,  N.  J.,  November,  1899. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


I. 

PAGE 

"POETRY  AND  PRIMITIVE  LANGUAGE         .        .        .         i— 18 

Introduction,  I — All  Art  Representative,  3 — Poetry  an  Artistic 
Development  of  Language,  4 — Language  Representative  of  Mental 
Processes  through  Material  Sounds  or  Symbols,  4 — This  Book  to 
show  how  Language,  and  hence,  how  Poetic  Language,  can  repre- 
sent Thought,  by  pointing  out,  first,  how  SOUNDS  represent 
Thought  in  Primitive  and  then  in  Poetic  Words  and  Intonations  : 
and,  second,  how  Sounds  accepted  as  Words  are  used  in  Different 
SENSES,  and  how  these  represent  Thought  in  Conventional  and 
then  in  Poetic  Words  and  Phrases,  5 — Primitive  Words  are  de- 
veloped according  to  Principles  of  Association  and  Comparison, 
partly  Instinctively,  as  in  Ejaculations  ;  partly  Reflectively,  as  in 
Imitative  Sounds,  5 — This  Theory  need  not  be  carried  too  far,  9 — 
How  Language  is  a  Gift  from  God,  10 — Agreement  with  Refer- 
ence to  Ejaculatory  and  Imitative  Sounds  would  form  a  Primitive 
Language,  n — Sounds  represent  Thought  both  in  Single  Words 
and  in  Consecutive  Intonations,  12 — Elocution,  the  Interpreter  of 
Sounds  used  consecutively,  12 — Representing  that  Blending  and 
Balancing  of  Instinctive  and  Reflective  Tendencies  which  ex- 
press the  Emotive  Nature,  12. 

II. 

CONVERSATION,  DISCOURSE,  ELOCUTION,  VERSIFICA- 
TION        

Representative  Character  of  Intonations,  19 — Every  Man  has  a 
Rhythm  and  a  Tune  of  his  own,  19 — Physiological  Reason  for 
this,  20— Cultivated  by  Public  Speaking,  21 — Recitative,  and  the 
Origin  of  Poetic  and  Musical  Melody,  21 — Poetry,  Song,  Dance, 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

all  connected:  but  not  developed  from  each  other,  22 — Poetic 
Pause  and  Accent  are  Developed  only  from  Speech,  23 — Pause,  the 
Source  of  Verse,  25 — Breathing  and  the  Line,  25 — Hebrew 
Parallelism  ;  Greek,  25 — The  Caesura,  26 — Accent,  the  Source  of 
Rhythm  and  Tune,  27 — Feet :  how  produced  in  English,  28 — In 
the  Classic  Languages,  29 — Metrical  Possibilities  of  English,  30. 

III. 

ELOCUTION  :  ITS  REPRESENTATIVE  ELEMENTS  CLASSI- 
FIED                32-36 

Pause  and  Accent,  32 — Analyzed,  the  Former  gives  us  the  Element 
of  Duration,  the  Latter  gives  Duration,  Force,  Pitch,  and  Quality, 
33 — Must  find  what  each  Element  represents  in  DISCOURSIVE 
ELOCUTION,  developed  from  Ejaculatory  or  Instinctive  Modes  of 
Utterance,  and  in  DRAMATIC  ELOCUTION,  developed  from  Imitative 
or  Reflective  Utterance ;  and  then  apply  to  Poetry,  33 — General 
Statement  of  what  is  Represented  by  Duration,  Force,  Pitch,  and 
Quality,  ;  Rhythm  the  Effect  of  the  First  Two,  and  Tune  of  the 
Last  Two,  34. 

IV. 

ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  DURATION        .        .        37-49 

The  Elements  entering  into  Rhythm :  Duration,  and  Force,  37 — 
Duration  :  Fast  Time  Instinctive,  representing  Unimportant  Ideas  ; 
Slow  Time  Reflective,  representing  Important  Ideas  ;  Movement 
a  Combination  of  the  Two,  37 — The  Pause  as  used  in  Elocution, 
38 — In  Poetry,  at  the  Ends  of  Lines,  39 — In  the  Caesura,  40 — Run- 
on  and  End-stopped  Lines,  40— Quantity,  Short  and  Long,  in 
Elocution  and  Poetry  ;  as  produced  by  Vowels  and  Consonants,  41, 
— Movement  or  Rhythm  as  influenced  by  Pause  and  Quantity,  44 — 
Feet  of  Three  Syllables  should  represent  Rapidity,  45 — Predomi- 
nating Long  Quantity  injures  English  Hexameters,  46 — Feet  of 
Four  Syllables  represent  Rapidity,  49. 

V. 

ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  FORCE       .        .        .        50-56 

Force,  representing  Instinctive  Tendency  of  Utterance,  or  Physi- 
cal Energy,  50 — Different  Kinds  of  Force,  50 — The  Degree  of 
Force,  51 — Loud  and  Soft  Force  as  Used  in  Elocution,  51 — Their 


CONTENTS.  xiil 

PACK 

Poetic  Analogues,  51 — Loudness  and  Softness,  Strength  and  Weak- 
ness, Great  and  Slight  Weight  as  represented  by  Long  or  Short, 
Accented  or  Unaccented  Syllables,  52. 

VI. 
FORCE  AS  THE  SOURCE  AND  INTERPRETER  OF  POETIC 

MEASURES 57~8i 

Gradations  of  Force  or  Stress,  representing  Reflective  Influence 
exerted  on  Instinctive  Tendency,  57 — What  is  represented  by  the 
the  Different  Kinds  of  Elocutionary  Stress,  58 — Why  Elocutionary 
Stress  corresponds  to  Poetic  Measure,  59 — Classification  of  Eng- 
lish Poetic  Measures,  and  their  Classic  Analogues,  60 — What  is 
represented  by  Initial  Double  Measure,  62 — Its  Classic  Form,  63 
— By  Terminal  Double  Measure,  65 — Why  used  in  Our  Hymns, 
67 — Its  Classic  Form,  67 — Triple  Measures  ;  Median,  68 — Its 
Classic  Form,  70 — Initial  Triple  Measure,  70 — Could  also  be  termed 
Compound  Measure,  corresponding  to  Compound  Stress,  70 — Its 
Classic  Form,  72 — Its  Use  in  Greek  Paeonics,  72 — In  Pathos, 
corresponding  to  Tremulous  Stress,  73 — Terminal  Triple  Measure, 
74 — Can  correspond  to  Thorough  Stress,  74 — Its  Classic  Form, 
75 — Blending  of  Different  Triple  Measures,  75 — Of  Triple  and 
Double  Measures  to  prevent  Monotony,  76 — Quadruple  Measures, 
Di-initial  and  Di-terminal,  77 — Blending  of  all  Kinds  of  Measures 
to  represent  Movements,  79. 

VII. 

ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  REGULARITY  OF  FORCE,      82-88 

Regularity  of  Force,  combining  its  Instinctive  with  Reflective 
Tendencies,  and  representing  Emotive  Influence,  82 — Abrupt  and 
Smooth  Force,  as  used  in  Elocution,  and  Irregular  and  Regular 
Accentuation  corresponding  to  them  in  Poetry,  82 — Abruptness  in 
short  and  long  Lines,  85 — Imitative  Effects,  87. 

VIII. 
ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  PITCH — TUNES  OF  VERSE,  89-102 

Elements  entering  into  the  Tunes  of  Verse  :  Pitch  and  Quality,  89 
— Pitch  representing  Reflective  Tendency  or  Intellectual  Motive, 
90 — On  its  Instinctive  Side  by  High  and  Low  Key,  91 — What  each 
represents,  91 — On  its  Reflective,  by  Rising,  Falling,  and  Circum- 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

flex  Movements,  92 — What  each  represents,  92 — When  Influences 
from  both  Sides  express  Emotive  Colorings,  by  Melody,  94 — 
What  Different  Melodies  represent,  94 — Pitch  as  used  in  Poetry, 
95 — Which  was  formerly  chanted,  95 — And  has  Tunes  at  Present, 
96 — Shades  of  Pitch  in  Speech  as  Numerous  as,  and  more  Delicate 
than,  in  Song,  96 — Scientific  Proof  that  Short  Vowels  usually  sug- 
gest a  High  Key,  and  Long,  a  Low  Key,  97 — Light,  Gay,  Lively 
Ideas  represented  by  the  Former,  99 — Serious,  Grave,  Dignified  by 
the  Latter,  100. 

IX. 

POETIC  PITCH — RISING  AND  FALLING  TONES      .       103-114 

Correspondence  between  Elocutionary  Inflections  or  Intonations  and 
certain  Arrangements  of  Verse-Harmony  produced  by  Sounds  of 
Vowels  and  Consonants  combined,  103 — Effects  of  Rising  Move- 
ments produced  by  Lines  beginning  without  Accents  and  ending 
with  them,  104 — Of  falling  Movements,  by  Lines  beginning  with 
Accents  and  ending  without  them,  105 — Of  Circumflex  Movements, 
by  Combinations  of  both  Arrangements,  106 — What  the  Marks  of 
Accent  indicated  to  the  Greeks,  and  how  they  read  them  in  their 
Poetry,  107 — Illustrations  of  Ideas  represented  by  Verse  arranged 
to  give  Effects  of  Rising,  Falling,  and  Circumflex  Movements,  109 
— Movements  of  Verse  in  Narration  and  Pathos,  114. 

X. 

POETIC  PITCH — MELODY  AND  RHYME        .        .         115-125 

Variety  and  Monotony  in  Elocution  and  Poetry  represent  less  or 
more  Control  over  Self  and  the  Subject,  115 — True  Significance  of 
Alliteration,  Assonance,  etc.,  116 — Rhyme  introduces  Element  of 
Sameness,  118 — Increases  effects  of  Versification,  of  Unity,  of 
Poetic  Form,  of  Emphasis  of  all  Kinds,  of  Regularity  of  Move- 
ment, of  Rapidity  of  Thought,  118 — Results  of  Changing  the 
Order  of  the  Occurrence  of  Rhymes  in  Tennyson's  "  In  Memo- 
riam,"  122 — Blank  Verse  admitting  of  Great  Variety  Preferable 
for  Long  Productions,  124. 

XI. 
ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  QUALITY       .        .         126-135 

Quality  represents  the  Emotive  Nature  of  the  Soul  as  influencing 
and  influenced  by  both  Instinctive  and  Reflective  Tendencies, 


CONTENTS.  XV 


PAGE 

126— Kinds  of  Quality,  and  what  each  represents  in  Elocution,  127 
— Letter-Sounds  used  in  Verse  to  Produce  Effects  of  the  Aspirate 
Quality,  128 — Guttural,  130 — Pectoral,  130 — Pure,  132 — Orotund, 
132 — Illustrations  of  Poetic  Effects  of  all  these  Kinds  when  com- 
bined, 133. 

XII. 

EFFECTS  OF  POETIC  QUALITY  CONTINUED         .         136-149 

Imitative  Effects  of  Letter-Sounds  corresponding  to  Aspirate 
Quality,  representing  Serpents,  Sighing,  Rapidity,  Winds,  Slumber, 
Conspiracy,  Fear,  Frightening,  Checking,  136— Guttural  Quality, 
representing  Grating,  Forcing,  Flowing  Water,  Rattling,  Effort, 
139 — Pectoral  Quality,  representing  Groaning,  Depth,  Hollowness, 
142 — Pure  Quality,  representing  Thinness,  Clearness,  Sharpness, 
Cutting,  143 — Orotund  Quality,  representing  Fulness,  Roundness, 
Murmuring,  Humming,  Denying,  etc.,  143 — These  Effects  as  com- 
bined in  Various  Illustrations  of  Carving  ;  Dashing,  Rippling,  and 
Lapping  Water  ;  Roaring,  Clashing,  Cursing,  Shrieking,  Fluttering, 
Crawling,  Confusion,  Horror,  Spite,  Scorn,  etc.,  145. 

XIII. 

THE  SACRIFICE  OF  SENSE  TO  SOUND          .        .         150—160 

Verse  in  which  Attention  to  Sound  prevents  Representation  of 
Thought,  150 — Violating  Laws  of  Natural  Expression  or  Gram- 
matical Construction,  151 — Excellences  exaggerated,  the  Sources  of 
these  Faults,  152 — Insertion  of  Words,  Pleonasm,  Superfluity,  152 
— Transposition  of  Words,  Inversion,  Hyperbaton,  tending  to 
Obscurity,  154 — Style  of  the  Age  of  Dryden,  156— Alteration  of 
Words  in  Accent ;  or  by  Aphasresis,  Front-Cut ;  Syncope,  Mid- 
Cut  ;  or  Apocope,  End-Cut,  157 — All  these  often  show  Slovenly 
Workmanship,  158. 

XIV. 
SACRIFICE  OF  SENSE  TO  SOUND  CONTINUED      .         161-172 

Omission  of  Words,  or  Ellipsis,  indicating  C rudeness,  161 — Leading 
to  Obscurity  because  Meanings  are  conveyed  by  Phrases  as  well  as 
by  Words,  164 — Misuse  of  Words,  Enallage,  165 — Poetic  Sounds 
are  Artistic  in  the  Degree  in  which  they  really  represent  Thought 
and  Feeling,  171. 


xvi  CONTENTS. 

XV. 

PAGE 

MEANINGS  OF  WORDS  AS   DEVELOPED  BY  ASSOCIA- 
TION AND  COMPARISON          ....         i?3-I79 

Instinctive  Ejaculatory  Sounds,  and  Reflective  Imitative  Sounds, 
becoming  words  by  Agreement,  in  Fulfilment  of  the  Principle  of 
Association  or  Comparison,  can  represent  but  a  few  Ideas,  173 — 
Other  needed  Words  may  be  due  to  Agreement  in  using  Arbitrary 
Symbols  ;  it  is  Philosophical  to  suppose  them  largely  developed  by 
Tendencies  underlying  the  Formation  of  Primitive  Words,  174 — 
How  these  Tendencies  lead  to  the  Use  of  the  same  Word  in  Dif- 
ferent Senses,  175 — In  the  case  of  Words  whose  Meanings  depend 
on  Association,  175 — How  what  refers  to  the  Material  comes  to 
refer  to  the  Immaterial,  176 — Words  whose  Meanings  depend  on 
Comparison,  176 — What  refers  to  the  Material  is  by  Comparison 
used  for  the  Immaterial,  177 — Great  Varieties  of  Meanings  are 
developed  from  the  same  Word  by  Continued  Processes  of  Associa- 
tion and  Comparison,  178 — A  Knowledge  of  this  fact,  and  its 
Results  are  Necessary  to  an  Intelligent  Use  of  Language,  179. 

XVI. 

MEANINGS  OF  PHRASES  AS  DETERMINED  BY  ASSOCIA- 
TION OR  COMPARISON        ....         180-185 

Language,  a  Process  in  which  Words  and  Ideas  represented  by 
them  are  used  consecutively,  180 — How  Words  in  Progression  can 
represent  Mental  Processes,  180 — How  Acts  in  Progression  do  this 
in  Pantomime  and  how  this  is  done  when  Words,  as  Symbols,  are 
substituted  for  the  Acts  in  Pantomime,  181 — How  Subject,  Predi- 
cate, and  Object  are  put  together,  182, — Subject,  Predicate,  and 
Object  of  a  Complete  Sentence,  are  the  Beginning,  Middle,  and 
End  of  a  Complete  Process,  of  which  all  the  Parts  of  Speech  are 
Logical  Parts,  183 — Examination  of  Certain  Sentences,  183 — 
How  the  Meanings  of  them,  considered  as  Wholes,  depend  on  the 
Principle  of  Association  or  of  Comparison,  184 

XVII. 
POETIC  AND  UNPOETIC  WORDS  ....         186-194 

Words  depending  for  their  Meanings  on  Association  not  necessa- 
rily Prosaic  ;  nor  those  depending  on  Comparison  necessarily 
Poetic,  1 86 — The  Latter  necessitate  Imagination  to  originate,  and, 


CONTENTS.  XV11 

PACK 

at  first,  to  interpret  them,  but  after  being  used  become  Conven- 
tional, 187 — This  the  Natural  Tendency  of  all  Words,  188 — 
Poets  can  always  cause  Words  to  seem  Poetic  ;  First,  by  selecting 
those  representing  Poetic  Associations,  188 — This  applies  to  Con- 
ventional Words,  189 — Second,  by  arranging  Words  imaginatively 
so  as  to  suggest  New  Comparisons  or  Pictures,  190 — Why  English 
of  Anglo-Saxon  Origin  is  preferred  by  our  Poets,  190 — Have 
Familiar  Associations,  191 — Sounds  fit  Sense,  191 — Are  used  by  us 
in  Different  Senses,  192 — Figures  represented  in  Compound  Words 
Apparent,  192 — In  general  more  Significant,  193 — Why  the  Eng- 
lish Language  is  fitted  to  remain  Poetic,  194. 

XVIII. 

PLAIN  AND  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE  .        .         195-207 

Two  Kinds  of  Language  used  in  Poetry,  that  depending  for  its 
Meaning  on  Association  and  that  depending  on  Comparison,  195 
— Distinction  between  the  Term  Figurative  Language,  as  applied 
to  Poetry  and  as  used  in  ordinary  Rhetoric,  195 — Figures  of 
Rhetoric  containing  no  Representative  Pictures  :  Interjection,  In- 
terrogation, Apostrophe,  Vision,  Apophasis,  Irony,  Antithesis, 
Climax,  196 — Figures  of  Rhetoric  necessitating  Representative 
Language :  Onomatopoeia,  Metonymy,  Synecdoche,  Trope,  Simile, 
Metaphor,  Hyperbole,  Allegory,  197 — Laws  to  be  observed,  and 
Faults  to  be  avoided,  in  using  Similes  and  Metaphors,  200 — When 
Plain  Language  should  be  used,  203 — And  when  Figurative,  206. 

XIX. 

PROSE   AND    POETRY  ;    PRESENTATION  AND    REPRE- 
SENTATION IN  ITS  VARIOUS  FORMS          ".        208-212 

Tendencies  of  Plain  Language  toward  Prose,  and  of  Figurative 
toward  Poetry,  208 — Plain  Language  tends  to  present  Thought, 
209 — Figurative  to  represent  it,  209 — All  Art  Representative,  210 
— But  Plain  Language  may  represent,  and  Figurative  may  present, 
210 — Poetic  Representation  depends  upon  the  Character  of  the 
Thought,  211 — If  a  Poet  thinks  of  Pictures,  Plain  Language  de- 
scribing them  will  represent  according  to  the  Method  of  Direct 
Representation,  211 — If  not  of  Pictures,  he  may  illustrate  his 
Theme  by  thinking  in  Pictures,  and  use  Figurative  Language 


xviii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

according  to  the  Methods  of  Indirect  Expressional  or  Descriptive 
Representation,  211 — Pure  Representation  is  solely  Representa- 
tive, 212 — Alloyed  Representation  contains  some  Presentation,  212. 


XX. 

PURE  DIRECT  REPRESENTATION          .        .        .        213-224 

In  what  Sense,  and  how  far,  Thought  and  Feeling  can  be  Com- 
municated Representatively,  213 — Pure  Representation,  as  used 
by  Tennyson,  214— Hunt,  etc.,  215— Pure  Direct  Representation, 
as  used  by  Homer,  Milton,  Shakespear,  Morris,  Heine,  Tennyson, 
Arnold,  Burns,  Gilbert,  etc.,  216— Extensive  Use  of  this  Method 
in  all  Forms  of  Poetry,  220. 


XXI. 
PURE  INDIRECT  OR  ILLUSTRATIVE  REPRESENTATION,  225-239 

Illustrative  in  Connection  with  Direct  Representation  enables  a 
writer  to  express  almost  any  Phase  of  Thought  representatively  or 
poetically,  225  ;  Examples,  226 — Representation,  if  Direct,  must 
communicate  mainly  what  can  he  seen  or  heard,  228 — Inward 
Mental  Processes  can  be  pictured  outwardly  and  materially  only  by 
Indirect  Representation,  228 — Examples  of  this  Fact  from  Long- 
fellow, from  Arnold,  from  Whittier,  from  Smith,  from  Tennyson, 
Aldrich,  and  Bryant,  229 — Two  Motives  in  using  Language,  corre- 
sponding respectively  to  those  underlying  Discoursive  and  Dramatic 
Elocution,  namely  that  tending  to  the  Expression  of  what  is  within 
the  Mind,  and  that  tending  to  the  Description  of  what  is  without 
the  Mind,  230 — Examples  from  Longfellow  of  Poetry  giving  form 
to  these  two  different  Motives,  231 — Careful  Analysis  might  give  us 
here,  besides  Indirect  or  Figurative  Representation  used  for  the 
purpose  of  Expression,  the  same  used  for  the  purpose  of  Descrip- 
tion, but  as  in  Rhetoric  and  Practice  Expressional  and  Descriptive 
Illustration  follow  the  same  Laws,  both  will  be  treated  here  as  Il- 
lustrative Representation,  231 — Similes,  ancient  and  modern,  from 
Homer,  from  Morris,  from  Milton,  from  Shakespear,  from  Moore, 
from  Kingsley,  232 — Metaphors,  ancient  and  modern,  235 — Used 
in  Cases  of  Excitation  ;  Examples,  237. 


CONTENTS.  XIX 

XXII. 

FAGS 

PURE  REPRESENTATION  IN  THE  POETRY  OF  HOMER,  240-261 

How  the  Phenomena  of  Nature  should  be  used  in  Representation 
— Homer  as  a  Model,  240 — His  Descriptions  are  Mental,  Fragmen- 
tary, Specific,  Typical,  241 — The  Descriptions  of  Lytton,  Goethe, 
Morris,  Southey,  etc,,  244. — Homer's  Descriptions  are  also  Progres- 
sive ;  Examples,  251 — Dramatic  Poems  should  show  the  same 
Traits,  259 — Homer's  Illustrative  Representation,  260. 

XXIII. 

ALLOYED  REPRESENTATION  :  ITS  GENESIS  .        .        262-277 

Alloy  introduces  Unpoetic  Elements  into  Verse,  262 — All  Classic 
v  Representation  Pure,  263 — Tendencies  in  Poetic  Composition  lead- 
ing to  Alloyed  Representation,  264 — In  Direct  Representation,  264 
— In  Illustrative  Representation,  265 — Lawful  to  enlarge  by  Illus- 
trations an  Idea  Great  and  Complex,  265 — Or  Small  and  Simple, 
266 — Descriptions  of  a  Meal,  269 — Sunset,  270 — Peasant,  271 — 
Sailor,  272 — How  these  Tendencies  may  introduce  Alloy  that  does 
not  represent,  273 — Exaggerations  in  Love-Scenes,  274 — In  De- 
scriptions of  Natural  Scenery,  etc.,  276— In  Allegorical  Poems 
and  Sensational  Plays,  276. 

XXIV. 

EXPLANATORY  ALLOY  IN  DIRECT  REPRESENTATION,  278-292 

Alloy,  if  carrying  to  Extreme  the  Tendency  in  Plain  Language, 
becomes  Didactic  ;  if  the  Tendency  in  Figurative  Language,  it 
becomes  Ornate,  278 — Didactic  Alloy  explains  and  appeals  to  the 
Elaborative  Faculty,  not  the  Imagination,  279 — Rhetoric  instead 
of  Poetry,  279 — Examples  of  Didactic  Alloy  where  Representa- 
tion purports  to  be  Direct  in  Cases  where  the  Thought  is  Philosoph- 
ical, 280 — How  Thought  of  the  Same  Kind  can  be  expressed  Poet- 
ically, 281 — In  Cases  where  the  Thought  is  Picturesque,  as  in 
Descriptions  of  Natural  Scenery,  284 — How  Similar  Scenes  can  be 
described  Poetically,  285 — Didactic  Descriptions  of  Persons,  288 — 
Similar  Representative  Descriptions,  289 — How  Illustrative  Repre- 
sentation helps  the  Appeal  to  the  Imagination,  289 — In  Descrip- 
tions of  Natural  Scenery  and  of  Persons,  290— The  Sensuous  and 
the  Sensual,  292. 


XX  CONTENTS. 

XXV. 

PACK 

EXPLANATORY   ALLOY   IN    ILLUSTRATIVE   REPRESEN- 
TATION                293-307 

Illustrations  that  are  not  always  necessarily  Representative,  293 — 
Their  Development  gradually  traced  in  Descriptions  of  Natural 
Scenery,  295 — Practical  Bearing  of  this  on  the  Composition  of 
Orations,  299 — Why  Common  People  hear  Some  gladly  and  Others 
not  at  all,  299 — Obscure  Styles  not  Brilliant,  302 — Examples  of 
Obscure  Historical  and  Mythological  References  in  Poetry,  303 — 
— Alloyed  Representation  Short-Lived,  304 — How  without  any 
such  a  Mixture  of  Main  and  Illustrating  Thought  as  to  destroy 
Representation,  References  to  possibly  UnknownThings  are  made 
in  Poetry  that  lives,  305. 

XXVI. 
ORNAMENTAL  ALLOY  IN  REPRESENTATION         .         308-318 

Poetic  Development  of  the  Far-Fetched  Simile  in  the  Illustrating 
of  Illustrations,  308 — Examples  of  this  from  Several  Modern 
Writers,  309 — Whose  Representation  or  Illustration  fails  to  repre- 
sent or  illustrate,  312 — Poetic  Development  of  the  Mixed  Meta- 
phor, 312 — Examples  from  Modern  Poets,  313 — In  what  will  this 
result?  314 — More  Examples,  315  ;  How  the  Tendency  leads  the 
Poet  from  his  Main  Thought  to  pursue  Suggestions  made  even  by 
Sounds,  Representing  thus  a  Lack  of  Sanity  or  of  Discipline, 
neither  of  which  is  what  Art  should  represent,  317. 

XXVII. 
REPRESENTATION  IN  POEMS  CONSIDERED  AS  WHOLES,  319-341 

Form  in  Words  and  Sentences,  319 — How  Visible  Appearances 
give  an  Impression  of  Form,  320 — How  Movable  Appearances  do 
the  Same,  320 — Consistency  and  Continuity  in  a  Sentence  Neces- 
sary to  give  it  an  Effect  of  Form,  321 — A  Poem  a  Series  of  Repre- 
sentations and  of  Sentences,  321 — Must  have  Manifest  Consist- 
ency and  Continuity  giving  it  Manifest  Unity  and  Progress,  as  also 
Definiteness  and  Completeness,  322 — Examples  of  Poems  with  a 
Manifest  Form  modelled  on  Direct  Representation,  323 — How 
Figures  can  be  carried  out  with  Manifest  Consistency  and  Conti- 
nuity, 327 — Complete  and  Broken  Figures,  328 — Examples  of 


CONTENTS.  XXI 

PAGE 

Poems  with  Forms  modelled  on  the  Methods  of  Illustrative  Repre- 
sentation, 328 — How  Excellence  of  Form  in  all  Poems  of  whatever 
Length  should  be  determined,  336 — Certain  Poems  not  representing 
Unity  and  Progress,  337 — Great  Poets  see  Pictures  when  conceiving 
their  Poems  ;  Inferior  Poets  think  of  Arguments,  338 — Same  Prin- 
ciples applied  to  Smaller  Poems,  338 — The  Moral  in  Poetry  should 
be  represented  not  presented,  339 — Poetic  Excellence  determined 
not  by  the  Thought  but  by  the  Form  of  the  Thought,  which  must 
be  a  Form  of  Representation,  339. 

XXVIII. 
THE  USEFUL  ENDS  OF  POETIC  REPRESENTATION          342-346 

These  are  all  developed  from  Possibilities  and  Methods  of  Expres- 
sion underlying  equally  the  Formation  of  Poetic  and  of  all  Lan- 
guage, 342 — Poetry  forced  to  recognize  that  Nature  symbolizes  ^ 
Processes  of  Thought,  343 — Influence  of  this  Recognition  upon  Con- 
ceptions of  Truth,  Human  and  Divine,  Scientific  and  Theologic, 
344 — And  its  Effects  upon  Feeling  and  Action  ;  Conclusion,  345. 


POETRY  AS  A  REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 


CHAPTER  I. 

POETRY  AND  PRIMITIVE  LANGUAGE. 

Introduction — All  Art  Representative — Poetry  an  Artistic  Development  of 
Language — Language  Representative  of  Mental  Processes  through  Ma- 
terial Sounds  or  Symbols — Primitive  Words  are  developed  according  to 
Principles  of  Association  and  Comparison,  partly  Instinctive,  through 
Ejaculations  ;  partly  Reflective,  through  Imitative  Sounds — This  Theory 
need  not  be  carried  too  far — How  Language  is  a  Gift  from  God — 
Agreement  with  Reference  to  Ejaculatory  and  Imitative  Sounds  would 
form  a  Primitive  Language — This  Book  to  show  how  Language,  and 
hence,  how  Poetic  Language,  can  represent  Thought,  by  pointing  out, 
first,  how  SOUNDS  represent  Thought  in  Primitive  and  then  in  Poetic 
Words  and  Intonations;  and,  second,  how  Sounds  accepted  as  Words  are 
used  in  Different  SENSES,  and  how  these  Represent  Thought  in  Conven- 
tional and  then  in  Poetic  Words  and  Phrases — Sounds  represent  Thought 
both  in  Single  Words  and  in  Consecutive  Intonations — Elocution,  the 
Interpreter  of  Sounds  used  Consecutively — Representing  that  Blending 
and  Balancing  of  Instinctive  and  Reflective  Tendencies,  which  express 
the  Emotive  Nature. 

\1TORDSWORTH,  in  one  of  his  finest  passages,  says 
of  the  results  of  his  studies  in  poetry: 

I  have  learned 

To  look  on  nature,  not  as  in  the  hour 
Of  thoughtless  youth  ;  but  hearing  oftentimes 
The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity. 

.     .     .     And  I  have  felt 

A  presence  that  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 


2         '  POETRY  AS  A  REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Of  elevated  thoughts  ;  a  sense  sublime 
Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 
Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean,  and  the  living  air, 
And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man : 
A  motion  and  a  spirit,  that  impels 
All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 
And  rolls  through  all  things. 

— Lines  Composed  a  few  Miles  above  Tintern  Abbey. 

How  many  are  there  who  have  learned  for  themselves 
this  lesson  —  undoubtedly  a  valuable  one  —  of  which 
Wordsworth  speaks  ?  How  many  are  there  who  can  ap- 
prehend clearly  his  meaning  in  what  he  says  of  it  ?  How 
many  are  there  who  can  discover  in  themselves  any  im- 
portant addition  to  their  mental  or  moral  development 
that  has  been  due  to  poetry,  or  who  can  appreciate  fully 
its  best  thought,  if  at  all  subtle  in  its  nature,  even  though 
presented  in  the  best  possible  form  ?  That  in  our  day 
there  are  very  few  of  these,  is  only  too  apparent  to  any 
competent  judge  of  the  subject  who  questions  the  leaders 
in  our  literary  circles,  who  reads  the  verses  in  our  maga- 
zines, who  examines  the  criticisms  in  our  reviews,  or  who 
listens  to  the  accounts  of  what  students  of  poetry  are 
taught  in  our  schools.  Yet  in  his  "  Defence  of  Poesy " 
Sir  Philip  Sidney  tells  us  that  this  art  "  is  of  all  other 
learnings  the  most  ancient, — that  from  whence  all  other 
learnings  have  taken  their  beginnings, — and  so  universal 
that  no  learned  nation  doth  despise  it ;  nor  no  barbarous 
nation  is  without  it."  Bailey  says  that : 

Poetry  is  itself  a  thing  of  God. 

He  made  his  prophets  poets,  and  the  more 

We  feel  of  poesy  do  we  become 

Like  God  in  love  and  power. 

—Festus. 


POETRY  AND  PRIMITIVE  LANGUAGE.  3 

And  Holmes  assures  us  that — 

There  breathes  no  being,  but  has  some  pretence 
To  that  fine  instinct  called  poetic  sense. 

— A  Metrical  Essay* 

If  statements  like  these,  which  could  be  multiplied 
indefinitely,  be  true,  then  it  is  both  important  and  pos- 
sible for  men  of  all  classes  and  conditions  to  have  the 
character  and  methods  of  this  art — the  only  one  accessible 
to  the  members  of  every  household — so  explained  to  them 
that  they  shall  be  able  to  appreciate  it,  and  to  judge  intelli- 
gently of  its  products,  and  hence  to  enjoy  it,  and  to  profit 
by  it.  It  is  with  this  belief  that  the  present  work  has 
been  undertaken,  in  which  it  will  be  maintained  through- 
out that  there  are  absolute  standards  of  poetic  excellence ; 
that  these  can  be  ascertained ;  and  that  upon  them  can  be 
founded  a  system  of  criticism  as  simple  as  it  is  scientific. 

At  the  threshold  of  our  undertaking,  the  first  thing  for 
us,  of  course,  is  to  become  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  facts  of  the  case,  and  the  fact  of  primary  importance 
for  us  here  will  be  ascertained  when,  in  some  form,  we 
have  answered  the  question,  What  is  poetry  ? 

Poetry  is  acknowledged  to  be  an  art,  ranking,  like 
music,  with  the  fine  arts, — painting,  sculpture,  and  archi- 
tecture. It  is  acknowledged,  also,  that  the  peculiar  char- 
acteristic of  all  these  arts  is  that  they  have  what  is  termed 
form  (from  the  Latin  forma,  an  external  appearance). 
This  form,  moreover,  is  aesthetic  (from  the  Greek  cdfffhjrot, 
perceived  by  the  senses)  ;  and  it  is  presented  in  such  a  way 
as  to  address  the  senses  through  the  agency  of  an  artist, 
who,  in  order  to  attain  his  end,  re-presents  the  sounds  or 
sights  of  nature.  7  All  these  ajts,  therefore,  in  a  broad 
sense  of  the  term,  are(  representative.  What  they  repre- 


4  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

I  sent  is  partly  the  phenomena  of  nature  and  partly  the 
|  thoughts  of  man ;  partly  that  which  is  imitated  from 
/  things  perceived  in  the  world  without,  and  partly  that 
which  is  conceived  in  the  mind  of  him  who,  in  order  to 
express  his  conception,  produces  the  imitation.  Both  of 
these  factors  are  present  in  all  artistic  forms,  and  cause 
them  to  be  what  they  are.  That  painting  and  sculpture 
represent,  is  recognized  by  all ;  that  music  and  architect- 
ure do  the  same,  needs  to  be  proved  to  most  men.  As 
for  poetry,  with  which  we  are  now  to  deal,  all  perceive 
that  it  contains  certain  representative  elements ;  but  few 
are  aware  to  what  an  extent  these  determine  every  thing 
in  it  that  is  distinctive  and  excellent. 

The  medium  used  in  poetry  is  language,  of  which  it  is 
simply  an  artistic  development.  To  understand  the  one, 
we  should  begin  by  trying  to  understand  the  other.  Let 
us  consider,  then,  for  a  little,  what  language  is.  Only  a 
moment's  thought  will  show,  that,  like  the  arts  of  which  I 
have  spoken,  it,  too,  is  representative.  Through  outward 
and  perceptible  sounds  or  symbols  it  makes  known  our 
inward  thoughts,  which,  without  the  representation,  others 
could  not  know.  If,  in  any  way,  we  can  ascertain  how  it 
does  this,  we  may  gain  a  clew  by  which  to  find  how 
poetry  can  do  the  same. 

How,  then,  does  language  represent  thought  through 
the  agency  of  sound  ?  The  best  way  to  find  an  answer  to 
this  is  to  trace,  as  far  as  possible,  the  course  of  a  few 
thoughts  from  their  inception  in  the  mind  outward  to  the 
full  expression  of  them  in  words.  For  this  purpose  we 
might  imagine  ourselves  to  be  living  in  some  early,  or,  at 
least,  uncultivated  age  ;  we  might  ask  what  would  be  done 
by  the  members  of  a  race  with  a  limited  number  of  words 
and  desirous  of  expressing  ideas  for  which  they  had  no* 


POETRY  AND  PRIMITIVE  LANGUAGE.  5 

terms  in  their  vocabulary.  But,  without  taxing  our  imagi- 
nation thus,  we  can  accomplish  our  purpose  by  watching 
the  children  of  our  own  time.  We  can  note  the  different 
stages  in  the  development  of  their  efforts  to  tell  us  what 
they  think;  and  then  we  can  argue  from  analogy  that 
there  would  be  a  similar  order  of  development  in  language 
during  the  childhood  of  the  race.  Let  us  pursue  this 
course.  As  we  do  so,  we  shall  find  ourselves,  instinc- 
tively, making  two  divisions  of  our  subject :  the  first 
dealing  with  the  methods  of  originating  sounds  so  as  to 
represent  thought ;  the  second,  with  the  use  of  them 
after  they  have  been  originated  so  as  to  represent  different 
thoughts.  It  is  best  to  begin  by  considering  the  former 
of  these,  and  then,  immediately  in  connection  with  it,  its 
bearings  on  poetic  forms ;  not  because,  in  its  relations 
either  to  language  or  to  poetry,  it  occupies  the  more  im- 
portant position,  but  because  it  comes  the  earlier  in  the 
order  of  time. 

The  first  sounds  made  by  the  babe  are  instinctive,  and 
seem  to  be  accepted  as  words  in  fulfilment  mainly  of  the 
principle  of  association.  By  instinctive,  as  used  in  this 
book,  is  meant  an  expression  allied  in  its  nature  to  instinct ; 
due,  even  in  a  rational  being,  to  the  operation  less  of 
conscious  rationality  than  of  natural  forces  vitalizing  all 
sentient  existence.  The  child  cries  and  crows  while  the 
mother  hums  and  chuckles,  and  both  understand  each 
other.  They  communicate  through  what  may  be  termed 
ejaculations  or  interjections.  This  kind  of  language  is  little 
above  the  level  of  that  of  the  brutes ;  in  fact,  it  is  of  the 
same  nature  as  theirs.  The  sounds  seem  to  have  a  purely 
muscular  or  nervous  origin ;  and  for  this  reason  may  be 
supposed  to  have  no  necessary  connection  with  particular 
thoughts  or  psychic  states  intended  to  be  expressed  by 


6  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

them.  Nevertheless,  we  all  understand  the  meanings  of 
them  when  produced  by  the  lower  animals,  as  well  as 
when  made  by  man.  Everywhere,  certain  ejaculations  are 
recognized  to  be  expressive  of  the  general  tenor  of  certain 
feelings,  like  those  of  pleasure  and  pain,  desire  and  aver- 
sion, surprise  and  fright.  This  fact  shows  that  in  a  true 
sense  these  ejaculations  are  representative  ;  and  to  recog- 
nize it,  is  all  that  is  necessary  for  our  present  purpose. 
To  show  why  they  are  so,  to  explain  how  the  various 
qualities  and  movements  of  sounds  can  be  made  to  picture 
in  one  sphere  the  qualities  and  movements  of  thoughts 
which  can  exist  only  in  another  sphere,  would  require  a 
thorough  unfolding  of  the  principles  of  elocution  and 
music ;  and  to  introduce  this  just  here  would  take  us 
away  from  the  line  of  thought  immediately  before  us. 

Waiving  all  questions  with  reference  to  any  comparison 
or  likeness  that  there  may  be  between  these  ejaculations 
and  the  particular  sensations  that  they  express,  we  can  all 
recognize  how  men,  after  they  have  heard  the  same  utter- 
ance used  many  times  with  the  same  emotion,  should 
come  to  ally  or  associate  the  two.  "  Expression,"  says 
Farrar,  in  his  "  Language  and  Languages,"  "  is  the  natural 
and  spontaneous  result  of  impression ;  and,  however  merely 
animal  in  their  nature  the  earliest  exclamations  may  have 
been,  they  were  probably  the  very  first  to  acquire  ^he  dig- 
nity and  significance  of  reasonable  speech,  because  in  their 
case,  more  naturally  than  in  any  other,  the  mere  repeti- 
tion of  the  sound  would,  by  the  association  of  ideas, 
involuntarily  recall  the  sensation  of  which  the  sound  was 
so  energetic  and  instantaneous  an  exponent.  In  the  dis- 
covery of  this  simple  law,  which  a  very  few  instances 
would  reveal  to  the  mind  of  man,  lay  the  discovery  of  the 
Idea  of  Speech.  The  divine  secret  of  language — the* 


POETRY  AND  PRIMITIVE  LANGUAGE.  J 

secret  of  the  possibility  of  perfectly  expressing  the  unseen 
and  immaterial  by  an  articulation  of  air  which  seemed  to 
have  no  analogy  with  it — the  secret  of  accepting  sounds 
as  the  exponents  and  signs  of  every  thing  in  the  '  choir  of 
heaven  and  furniture  of  earth ' — lay  completely  revealed 
in  the  use  of  two  or  three  despised  interjections.  To  bor- 
row a  simile  from  the  eloquent  pages  of  Herder,  they  were 
the  sparks  of  Promethean  fire  which  kindled  language 
into  life." 

The  principle  of  association  in  connection  with  the  use 
of  natural  exclamations,  accounts  probably  for  the  origin 
not  only  of  actual  interjections,  but  of  other  sounds  also, 
like  the  sibilants,  aspirates,  and  gutturals,  giving  their 
peculiar  qualities  to  the  meanings  of  syllables  like  those 
in  hush,  hist,  and  kick.  Some,  too,  think  that  it  accounts 
for  the  origin  of  words  like  is,  me,  and  that,  cognate  with 
the  Sanskrit  as,  ma,  and  ta ;  the  first  meaning  to  breathe, 
and  indicating  the  act  of  breathing;  the  second  closing 
the  lips  to  shut  off  outside  influence,  and  thus  to  refer  to 
self ;  and  the  third  opening  the  lips  to  refer  to  others.  In 
the  same  way,  too,  because  the  organs  of  speech  are  so 
formed  that  the  earliest  articulated  sound  made  by  a  babe 
is  usually  either  mama  or  papa,  and  the  earliest  persons  to 
whom  each  is  addressed  are  the  mother  and  father,  people 
of  many  different  races  have  come  to  associate  mama, 
which,  as  a  rule,  is  uttered  first,  with  an  appeal  to  the 
mother,  and  papa  with  an  appeal  to  the  father. 

In  order,  however,  that  utterances  springing  from 
sounds  like  these  may  be  used  in  language,  it  is  evident 
that  men  must  begin  to  imitate  them.  The  principle  of 
Imitation,  therefore,  as  well  as  that  of  ejaculation,  must 
have  been  closely  connected  with  the  formation  of  the 
earliest  words.  Ejaculations,  as  has  been  said,  are  instinc- 


8  POETRY  AS  A  REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

tive.  As  such,  they  come  first  in  the  order  of  time,  fur- 
nishing men  both  with  sounds  that  can  be  imitated,  and 
with  sounds,  originated  in  the  vocal  organs,  that  can  be 
modified  so  as  to  form  the  imitations.  But  the  latter 
begin  to  be  used  as  soon  as  the  reflective  nature  begins  to 
assert  itself ;  and  they  soon  extend  to  the  reproduction  of 
other  sounds  besides  ejaculations — sounds  that  are  indis- 
putably representative  in  the  most  literal  sense,  and  that 
become  accepted  as  words  as  a  result  of  actual  comparison 
as  well  as  of  association.  The  sounds  are  first  heard  when 
the  child  is  led  to  notice  external  objects.  Then,  unlike 
the  animal  which  can  only  ejaculate,  but  just  like  his 
reputed  father  Adam,  the  first  who  had  a  reflective  nature, 
he  begins  to  give  names  to  these  objects,  or  to  have  names 
given  to  them  for  him  by  others.  These  names,  according 
to  the  methods  controlling  the  formation  of  nursery  lan- 
guage, are  always  based  upon  the  principle  of  imitation. 
Certain  noises  emanating  from  the  objects  designated, 
the  chick-chick  of  the  fowl,  the  tick-tick  of  the  watch,  the 
cuckoo  of  the  bird  over  the  clock,  the  bow-wow  of  the  dog, 
and,  later,  the  clatter  of  the  rattle,  or  the  rustle  of  the  silk 
or  satin,  are  imitated  in  the  names  applied  to  them  ;  and 
this  imitative  element  enables  the  child  to  recognize  what 
the  object  is  to  which  each  name  refers.  The  existence  of 
hundreds  of  terms  in  all  languages,  the  sounds  of  which 
are  significant  of  their  sense,  like  buzz,  hiss,  crash,  slam, 
bang,  whine,  howl,  roar,  bellow,  whistle,  prattle,  twitter, 
gabble,  and  gurgle  (many  of  which  are  of  comparatively 
recent  origin),  is  a  proof  that  the  prin^irjkjafJunitation  is 
an  important  factor  in  the  formation  of  words.  "  Through 
all  the  stages  of  growth  of  language,"  says  Whitney  in  his 
"Language  and  the  Science  of  Language,"  " absolutely 
new  words  are  produced  by  this  method  more  than  by 
any  other." 


POETRY  AND  PRIMITIVE  LANGUAGE.  9 

Not  only  so,  but  it  is  recognized  universally  that  in 
our  present  languages  certain  words — and  they  are  those 
which  skilful  writers  always  prefer  to  use,  if  they  can — 
sound  more  like  what  they  mean  than  others  do.  Many 
of  these  words,  it  is  true,  are  in  no  sense  traceable  to  an 
imitative  origin.  But  they  are  treated  as  if  they  were ; 
and  this  fact  proves  that  there  is  a  tendency  at  present,  as 
there  always  has  been,  to  derive  satisfaction  from  imita- 
tive, mimetic,  or,  as  they  are  technically  termed,  onomato- 
poetic,  sounds.  Of  all  writers,  the  poet,  who,  as  an  artist, 
is  supposed  to  use  language  the  most  skilfully,  manifests 
the  most  of  this  tendency.  Notice  the  following: 

The  terrible  grumble  and  rumble  and  roar, 
Telling  the  battle  was  on  once  more. 

—Sheridan's  Ride  :    T.  B.  Read. 

Here  's  a  knife  ;  clip  quick  ;  it  's  a  sign  of  grace. 

— Holy  Cross  Day  :  Browning. 

So  we  were  left  galloping,  Joris  and  I, 

********* 
'Neath  our  feet  broke  the  bright  brittle  stubble  like  chaff. 

— How  They  Brought  the  Good  News  :  Browning. 

Roared  as  when  the  rolling  breakers  boom  and  blanch  on  the  precipices. 

— Boddicea  :    Tennyson. 

Ancient  rosaries, 
Laborious  Orient  ivory,  sphere  in  sphere. 

—  The  Princess  :   Tennyson. 

While  I  nodded  nearly  napping,  suddenly  there  came  a  tapping, 
As  of  some  one  gently  rapping,  rapping  at  my  chamber-door. 

—  The  Raven  :  Poe. 

It  is  only  when  the  imitative  and  ejaculatory  theories 
of  the  origin  of  words  are  held  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
others,  that  they  deserve  the  treatment  which  they  have 
received  from  Max  Miiller,  in  his  "  Science  of  Language," 


10  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

under  the  names  of  the  bow-wow  and  pooh-pooh  theories. 
Muller  himself,  however,  mentions  approvingly  what  has 
been  called  in  turn  the  ding-dong  theory,  originated  by 
the  German  Heyse,  in  his  "  System  der  Sprachwissen- 
schaft."  According  to  this  theory,  as  Muller  states  it, 
"  a  law  runs  through  nearly  the  whole  of  nature,  that 
each  substance  has  its  peculiar  ring.  ...  It  was 
the  same  with  man."  He  once  possessed  an  instinctive 
faculty  for  giving  articulate  expression  to  the  rational 
conceptions  of  his  mind.  But  this  "  creative  faculty, 
which  gave  to  each  conception,  as  it  thrilled  for  the  first 
time  through  his  brain,  a  phonetic  expression,  became 
extinct  when  its  object  was  fulfilled."  This  theory  does 
not  seem  to  differ  materially  from  the  ejaculatory.  Of 
course,  the  fewer  words  a  man  had  in  his  vocabulary  in 
that  early  period,  the  more  he  would  exclaim,  and  the 
more  he  used  his  exclamations  as  words,  the  more  their 
character  would  become  changed  from  that  which  they 
had  when  mere  exclamations.  It  is  true  that  in  this  sense 
the  creative  faculty,  enabling  him  to  give  representative 
expressions,  would  become  extinct.  He  would  come  to 
use  conventional  words  instead  of  them.  But  before  he 
possessed  these  words  it  would  be,  to  quote  from  Whit- 
ney, "beyond  all  question  as  natural  for  the  untaught 
and  undeveloped  man  to  utter  exclamations  as  to  make 
gestures." 

This  theory,  that  the  very  earliest  words  were  ejacula- 
tory and  imitative,  seems  to  accord  with  the  commonly 
accepted  view,  that  language  is  a  gift  from  God,  recogniz- 
ing it  to  be  so  in  the  sense  that,  whereas  beasts  and  birds 
are  endowed  with  the  power  of  representing  only  a  few 
sensations  through  a  few  almost  unvarying  sounds,  man 
can  represent  any  number  of  thoughts  and  emotions 


POETRY  AND  PRIMITIVE  LANGUAGE.  II 

through  articulating  organs  capable  of  producing  almost 
infinite  combinations  and  variations.  Place  two  human 
beings,  thus  constituted,  in  a  state  like  that  of  Eden,  and 
in  a  month's  time,  by  using  ejaculatory  and  imitative 
utterances,  and  mutually  agreeing,  as  they  necessarily 
would  do,  to  associate  certain  ideas  with  certain  of  these, 
they  would  form  a  primitive  language,  which  both  could 
understand  ;  and  a  number  of  their  words,  too,  would 
probably  not  be  wholly  dissimilar  in  either  sound  or  sense 
to  some  that  we  use  to-day. 

This  fact  of  agreement,  just  mentioned,  is  undoubtedly 
the  most  important  of  the  elements  causing  sounds  to 
become  words  with  definite  meanings.  But  in  the  present 
discussion,  it  is  important  to  notice  that,  in  the  beginning, 
there  were  the  best  of  reasons  for  this  agreement ;  the 
signs  used  actually  represented  the  things  signified ;  they 
were  like  them  or  allied  to  them  ;  they  compared  with  them 
or  were  associated  with  them,  and  that,  too,  in  a  natural 
and  not,  as  is  the  case  with  words  originated  later,  in  an 
arbitrary  way.  Without  any  agreement  at  all,  an  ejacu- 
latory or  imitative  word  would  have  some  meaning,  and 
this  a  meaning  similar  to  the  one  ultimately  assigned  to 
it  by  common  consent. 

Were  we  dealing  with  language  here  for  its  own  sake, 
it  would  be  in  place  now  to  pass  on  from  these  earlier 
sounds,  originated  in  order  to  represent  thought,  to  the 
consideration  of  the  same  after  they  have  been  originated 
and  are  used  over  again  in  order  to  represent  other  and 
different  thoughts.  This  would  introduce  us  into  a 
sphere  where  we  should  find  the  great  majority  of  words 
in  every  vocabulary.  But  we  must  defer  any  reference  to 
these  at  present.  Our  object  now  is  to  find  the  connec- 
tion between  representation  in  natural  and  in  artistic 


12  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

language  ;  and,  before  we  go  further,  it  will  be  best  to 
apply  at  once  what  has  been  noticed  with  reference  to 
the  representation  of  thought  in  sound,  to  its  representa- 
tion in  those  features  of  poetic  form  which  depend  upon 
sound. 

So  far,  we  have  been  examining  how  ideas  can  be  repre- 
sented in  single  words.  But  ideas,  when  conceived  in  the 
mind,  are  in  constant  movement.  To  be  represented 
completely,  they  must  be  expressed  by  words,  not  stand- 
ing alone,  but  following  one  another  in  the  order  of  time. 
Possibly,  it  is  because  we  usually  hear  them  in  this  order, 
that  most  of  us  are  inclined  to  give  credence  to  the 
ejaculatory  and  imitative  theories  with  reference  to  their 
origin.  For,  whatever  may  be  true  of  words  used  separ- 
ately, it  is  a  fact  that,  even  aside  from  the  conventional 
meanings  ordinarily  attached  to  them,  intonations,  such 
as  can  be  given  only  in  the  movements  of  consecutive 
speech,  have  a  significance.  When  Bridget,  according  to 
a  familiar  story,  was  sent  to  the  neighbors  to  inquire  how 
old  Mrs.  Jones  was,  she  emphasized  the  old,  and  paused 
after  it,  and  so  gave  irreparable  offence.  Her  tones  repre- 
sented an  idea  which  the  mere  words  of  the  message 
confided  to  her  had  not  been  intended  to  convey. 

These  intonations,  as  will  be  noticed,  are  representa- 
tive of  movement  on  the  part  of  ideas.  Movement  is  a 
result  of  the  instinctive  tendency,  which,  carried  to  an 
extreme,  as  in  great  physical  passion,  ends  in  explosion. 
Ideas  result  from  the  reflective  tendency,  which,  carried  to 
an  extreme,  as  in  the  profoundest  thought,  ends  in  abso- 
lute cessation  of  movement,  or  quietness.  The  intona- 
tions result  from  the  blending  and  balancing  of  both  of 
these  tendencies.  But  now,  whenever  the  results  of  reflec- 
tion are  added  to  those  of  instinct,  or  of  instinct  to  those 


POETRY  AND  PRIMITIVE  LANGUAGE.  13 

of  reflection  ;  whenever  neither  one  of  these  elements 
alone  is  present  but  both  together  are  found  in  an  expres- 
sion, this,  in  distinction  from  either  instinctive  or  reflective, 
is  what  we  may  term  emotive.  A  man,  for  instance,  may 
eat  and  sleep  like  an  animal,  instinctively,  or  he  may  think 
and  talk  reflectively,  without  giving  any  expression  to 
what  we  mean  by  emotion.  But  as  soon  as  he  thinks  and 
talks  in  connection  with  eating  and  sleeping,  as  is  the  case 
with  a  caterer  or  an  upholsterer,  an  hotel-keeper  or  a 
housewife  ;  or  as  soon  as  his  instincts  prompt  and  accentu- 
ate his  thinking  and  talking,  as  is  the  case  with  an  actor 
or  a  good  story-teller,  then,  as  a  result  of  instinct  made 
thoughtful,  or  of  thought  made  instinctive,  he  begins  to 
manifest  his  emotive  nature,  and  the  character  of  his 
emotion  is  represented  by  the  degree  in  which  the  one 
or  the  other  of  the  two  tendencies  influencing  him  is  in 
excess. 

We  may  arrive  at  this  same  conclusion  through  a  differ- 
ent method.  That  which  blends  and  balances  the  in- 
stinctive or  physical  and  the  reflective  or  mental  tendencies, 
is  the  soul,  holding  body  and  mind  together,  influencing 
and  influenced  by  both.  But  as  the  intonations  result 
from  the  blending  and  balancing  of  these  same  tendencies 
as  manifested  in  language,  we  may  say  that  the  intona- 
tions represent  not  only  the  emotive  nature,  as  has  been 
shown,  but  also  the  soul.  Is  it,  then,  the  same  thing  to  put 
emotion  into  an  expression  and  to  put  soul  into  it  ?  Nine- 
ty-nine persons  out  of  every  hundred  will  acknowledge 
that,  according  to  their  ordinary  conceptions,  it  is.  And 
our  line  of  thought  here  will  show  that,  in  this  case,  ordi- 
nary conceptions  are  right.  No  one  can  give  expression 
to  his  emotive  nature  without  representing  a  blended 
result  of  nerve  and  thought,  of  instinct  and  reflection. 


14  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Nor  can  he  give  material  embodiment  to  all  the  possibili- 
ties of  expression  that  move  his  soul,  without  doing  the 
same.1 

1  It  may  be  asked  here,  very  naturally,  where,  in  this  classification  of  ten- 
dencies, is  the  place  for  the  expression  of  the  will  ?  The  answer  is  that 
there  is  none,  and  that  there  needs  to  be  none.  What  we  mean  by  will  is 
simply  a  force  in  the  soul,  emotive  in  its  general  character,  which,  swayed 
by  the  influence  of  some  overbalancing  tendency,  ends  in  action.  As  this 
force,  when  operating  in  any  direction,  is  constant  or  fitful,  the  will  is  said 
to  be  strong  or  weak.  If  it  impel  to  action  mainly  in  an  instinctive  direc- 
tion, to  the  exclusion  of  reflective  influences,  the  character  is  what  is  ordi- 
narily termed  wilful,  and,  under  differing  conditions,  will  be  reckless, 
sensual,  cruel,  or,  as  influenced  slightly  by  reflective  tendencies,  domineering, 
like  that  of  a  Napoleon.  If  the  force  impel  to  action  mainly  in  a  reflective 
direction  to  the  exclusion  of  instinctive  influences,  the  character,  under  dif- 
fering conditions,  will  be  too  coldly  speculative,  chimerical,  or,  as  influ- 
enced slightly  by  instinctive  tendencies,  calculating  or  hypocritical,  like  that 
of  a  Machiavelli  or  a  Chesterfield.  In  case  the  instinctive  and  reflective 
tendencies  are  very  evenly  matched,  and  therefore  both  act,  but  act  alter- 
nately, the  character  is  ill-balanced  and  fickle,  like  that  of  many  men  of 
genius,  whose  susceptibility  to  widely  separated  influences  is  the  source  of 
their  strength,  but  also  of  their  weakness.  In  case  the  instinctive  and 
reflective  tendencies  both  act,  and  act  simultaneously,  with  the  reflective 
ruling,  as  is  always  the  case  when  the  two  act  together  normally,  the  result 
is  both  natural  and  rational  ;  we  say  that  the  character  is  ' '  well- 
balanced,"  and  the  one  possessing  it  is  "  level-headed," — conditions  which, 
at  their  best,  produce  a  man  like  Washington.  Were  these  facts  with 
reference  to  the  action  of  the  will  regarded,  many  faults  both  of  opinion  and 
training  would  be  avoided.  It  would  be  recognized,  for  instance,  that 
while  there  is  such  a  thing  as  "  converting  a  soul,"  by  turning  the  control  of 
its  energies  from  its  instinctive  to  its  reflective  nature,  there  is  no  such 
a  thing  as  "breaking  a  will";  that  the  recklessness  tending  to  sensuality 
and  cruelty,  or  the  opposite  trait,  tending  to  speculation  and  sometimes  to 
hypocrisy,  can  neither  of  them  be  corrected,  except  by  a  careful  cultivation 
of  the  tendencies  that  naturally  balance  them. 

The  three  tendencies  from  which,  in  this  work,  the  phenomena  of  expres- 
sion are  derived,  are  the  same  in  general  character  as  those  upon  which  were 
based  the  principles  of  the  **  Orator's  Manual,"  published  several  years  ago. 
For  the  terms  now  used  in  order  to  refer  to  them,  especially  instinctive 
and  emotive^  as  well  as  for  certain  ideas  necessarily  associated  with  these,  I 


POETRY  AND  PRIMITIVE  LANGUAGE.  15 

It  may  be  interesting  to  notice  now  how  Herbert  Spen- 
cer, in  his  "  Essay  on  the  Origin  and  Function  of 
Music,"  confirms  the  most  of  what  has  just  been  said  with 

seem  to  be  about  equally  indebted  to  my  friends  Professor  J.  W.  Churchill, 
of  the  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  and  Moses  True  Brown,  of  the 
Boston  School  of  Oratory.  But  this  division  of  expressional  tendencies  into 
the  instinctive,  reflective,  and  emotive,  besides  being  made  to  accord  with 
the  results  of  the  practical  experience  of  instructors  of  this  rank,  can  be 
made  to  accord  also  with  the  classifications  of  many  different  systems  of  phi- 
losophy. To  mention  a  few  of  these,  and  to  go  back  first  to  the  subtlest  of  the 
most  ancient  of  them,  Plato, — according  to  the  careful  analyses  of  his  theories 
made  by  my  esteemed  colleague,  Professor  S.  S.  Orris,  of  Princeton  Col- 
lege,— in  the  "  Timseus,"  as  also  in  the  fourth  and  ninth  books  of  the  "  Re- 
public," divides  the  soul  into  the  sensuous,  corresponding  to  what  is  called 
in  this  work  the  instinctive  tendency,  under  which  he  classes  the  desires  for 
sensuous  pleasures  and  indulgences,  all  the  way  from  carnality  to  lust  for 
money  ;  the  rational,  corresponding  to  what  is  here  termed  the  reflective  ten- 
dency ;  and  the  spirited,  as  translators  term  it,  under  which,  as  appears 
from  the  "  Phaedrus  "  and  the  eighth  and  ninth  books  of  the  "  Republic," 
he  classes  the  emotions  of  wonder,  reverence,  ambition,  emulation,  indigna- 
tion, love  of  honor,  the  beautiful,  power,  glory,  etc.  In  the  "  Timaeus,'" 
again,  he  locates  the  rational  nature  in  the  head,  and  the  spirited  in  the 
thorax  near  by  it,  so  that  "  it  may  obey  the  reasoning  principle  (the  reflect- 
ive), and  in  connection  with  it  restrain  the  desires  "  (of  the  instinctive  tend- 
ency),— which  duty,  as  will  be  seen,  is  also  the  most  important  of  the 
functions  assigned  in  this  work  to  the  emotive  nature. 

The  underlying  philosophy  of  the  writers  of  the  New  Testament,  too, 
seems  to  have  been  very  similar  to  that  of  Plato.  Paul  says  in  I  Thes.  v., 
23:  "I  pray  God  your  whole  spirit  (rtvevfia)  and  soul  (tyvxr/}  and  body 
(o^coyi/^be  preserved  blameless  unto  the  coming  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  Of 
the  three  tendencies  thus  mentioned — for  it  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  they 
are  meant  to  indicate  separate  entities — the  former,  the  TtvEv^a,  is  gener- 
ally taken  to  refer  to  the  higher  rational  or  reflective  nature.  It  is  repre- 
sented as  sometimes  good  and  sometimes  evil  in  character  (Mark  i.,  23),  but 
always  as  that  which  allies  man  to  the  divine  Spirit,  also  described  frequently 
as  the  Spirit  of  Truth  (TO  itrsvjua  T^  dtyQsiaS,  John  xiv.,  17).  The  lat- 
ter word,  6<£>iJ.a,  is  acknowledged  to  refer  to  the  body,  sometimes  to  the 
fleshly  body,  as  in  the  expression  "  body  of  his  flesh  "  (ev  rca  doo^an  rrjS 
6apHo^)  in  Col.  i.,  22,  and  sometimes  to  the  body  supposed  to  take  the  place 
of  the  fleshly  in  the  next  world,  as  in  the  expression,  "  It  is  sown  a  natural 


1 6  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

reference  to  the  representative  character  of  the  intona- 
tions. He  asserts  that  these  furnish  "  the  commentary  of 
the  emotions  upon  the  propositions  of  the  intellect  "  ;  then, 

body,  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body.  There  is  a  natural  body  and  there  is  a 
spiritual  body,"  (doojua  Ttvevjuarixor)  in  I  Cor.  xiii.,  43,  44.  These  state- 
ments would  make  the  promptings  of  the  dcojua  correspond  to  what  is 
meant  in  this  book  by  the  instinctive  tendency  ;  for  while  this  has  been  rep- 
resented to  be  the  one  most  nearly  allied  to  physical  vitality,  it  is  still  a 
tendency  of  mind,  otherwise  it  could  not  be  a  factor  in  linguistic  expression  ; 
and  though,  during  the  presence  of  the  physical  form  it  manifests  itself 
through  it,  we  can  conceive,  were  this  form  absent,  of  its  manifesting  itself 
through  the  form  taking  the  place  of  it. 

The  reflective  tendency  being  traced  to  the  rtrevjua  and  the  instinctive 
to  the  dcSvua,  or,  so  far  as  concerns  the  present  life,  to  this,  as  embodied  in 
the  flesh  (tfa#i),  which  we  are  told,  in  Gal.  v.,  17,  "  lusteth  against  the 
spirit,"  we  have  left  the  emotive  tendency.  Can  this  be  traced  to  what  Paul 
terms  the  soul  (fax1?)  ?  In  other  words,  can  the  ipv%?f  represent  the 
feeling  connected  with  conscious  life,  either  animal  or  rational  ?  As  for  the 
soul's  being  the  seat  of  emotion,  it  can  only  be  said  that  usually,  but  not 
universally,  it  is  the  soul  which  in  the  Scriptures  is  represented  as  being 
pleased,  Mat.  xii.,  18  ;  or  sorrowful,  Mark  xiv.,  34  ;  or  troubled,  John 
xii.,  27  ;  and  this  either  spiritually  or  physically,  as  in  Luke  xii.,  19,  "  Soul 
tyl*Wf)t  eat»  drink,  and  be  merry."  As  for  the  same  word's  representing 
the  principle  of  life  in  both  the  animal  and  rational  natures,  this  seems  more 
susceptible  of  proof.  It  is  explicitly  stated  in  I.  Cor.  xv. ,  43,  44,  that 
when  one  dies  his  body  "is  sown  "  a  soul-body  (dcoju a  tyvxiKov,  trans- 
lated in  our  version  "a  natural  body")  "and  is  raised  a  spiritual  body. 
There  is  a  spiritual  body  and  there  is  a  soul-body  "  ;  but  it  is  implied  just 
as  plainly  in  Matt,  xvi.,  25,  26,  that  there  is  a  soul  connected  with  the 
itvBvn.0.  or  the  rational  part  of  man,  existing  after  death.  Otherwise  what 
can  this  mean  :  "  For  what  is  a  man  profited,  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole 
world  and  lose  his  own  soul?  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his 
soul  (TTJ<S  ipvxrj's)  ? "  If  these  passages  taken  together,  and  others  like 
them,  can  be  made  to  mean  that  there  is  a  soul  or  an  emotive  tendency 
which,  at  times,  can  act  in  connection  either  with  the  reflective  (rtvEv/Lia) 
or  the  instinctive  (dcd/ua)  tendency,  then  the  philosophical  theory  implied 
in  these  statements  corresponds  exactly  with  what  is  said  of  the  emotive  ten- 
dency of  the  soul  in  this  work.  Possibly,  too,  theologians  might  derive  a 
suggestion  of  value  from  the  fact  that  the  fax??  is  the  only  mental  element 
represented  in  the  Scriptures  as  in  danger  of  being  lost.  The  rtvevita,  and 


POETRY  AND  PRIMITIVE  LANGUAGE.  \*J 

making  a  physical  explanation,  says  that  "  the  muscles 
that  move  the  chest,  larynx,  and  vocal  cords,  contracting 
like  other  muscles  in  proportion  to  the  intensity  of  the 

the  6£)p,a  appear  to  be  always  kept,  but  the  question  seems  to  be  asked : 
What  would  either  be  without  the  fyv£?i,  the  seat  of  those  emotions,  from 
which  man  derives  both  the  pleasures  of  existence  and  the  power  of  bal- 
ancing and  harmonizing  the  tendencies  of  his  nature  toward  "  rationality," 
"  thought,"  "  the  ideal,"  on  the  one  hand  ;  and  toward  "body,"  "embodi- 
ment," "  form,"  on  the  other  ? 

The  classification  of  modes  of  expression  given  here,  will  be  recognized 
also  as  resembling,  with  some  differences,  those  of  the  system  of  Delsarte,  as 
represented  both  by  L'  Abbe  Delaumosne  in  his  printed  work,  and  by  pupils 
of  the  French  elecutionist  in  this  country.  Delaumosne  traces  expression 
to  eccentric,  concentric,  and  normal  motion,  corresponding  respectively  to 
the  sensitive,  intellectual,  and  moral  states  of  the  mind.  For  normal  mo- 
tion, or  the  effects  of  it,  Moses  True  Brown,  in  his  lectures  before  the 
Boston  School  of  Oratory,  substitutes  the  word  poise,  an  admirable  term, 
which  I  have  found  full  of  suggestions,  as  I  have  other  ideas  of  this  lecturer ; 
and  he  describes  the  states  of  the  mind  by  using  the  terms  vital,  mental,  and 
emotional.  In  the  present  work,  an  attempt  has  been  made  for  the  first 
time  to  analyze  the  tendencies  of  expression  for  the  purpose  of  showing  the 
relation  between  them  and  the  effects  of  poetry.  But,  in  connection  with 
this,  will  be  found  also  the  first  complete  classification  of  these  tendencies, 
as  manifested  in  discoursive  and  dramatic  elocution,  through  the  elements  of 
duration,  force,  pitch,  and  quality.  As  for  the  theory  underlying  these 
classifications,  the  acceptance  of  which,  however,  is  not  necessary  to  the  ac- 
ceptance of  the  classes  themselves,  it  differs  from  the  others  mentioned, 
mainly,  in  recognizing,  as  a  basis  for  aesthetic  methods  of  expression,  only 
two  primary  forms  of  motion,  or  of  mental  tendencies  corresponding  to 
them  ;  and  in  considering  the  third  as  the  resultant  of  these  two.  In  this 
regard,  this  theory  is  sustained  by  the  divisions  into  the  subjective,  the  objec- 
tive, and  the  relations  between  them,  which  underlie  the  entire  philosophic 
systems  both  of  Schelling  and  Hegel.  Herbert  Spencer,  moreover,  in 
his  "  Principles  of  Pyschology,"  while  maintaining  that  "no  definite  separa- 
tion can  be  effected  between  the  phenomena  of  mind  and  those  of  vitality  in 
general,"  also  tries  to  "  find  a  true  generalization  of  mental  phenomena  by 
comparing  them  with  the  lower  vital  phenomena."  Of  course,  it  would  follow 
from  this,  that  there  are  certain  mental  tendencies  allied  to  the  vital  nature, 
and  others  allied  to  what  is  higher  than  it ;  the  former  of  which,  being  first 
manifested  in  instinct,  may  very  properly  be  termed,  as  in  this  work,  in- 


1 8  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

feelings ;  every  different  contraction  of  these  muscles  in- 
volving, as  it  does,  a  different  adjustment  of  the  vocal 
organs ;  every  different  adjustment  of  the  vocal  organs 
causing  a  change  in  the  sound  emitted ; — it  follows  that 
variations  of  voice  are  the  physiological  results  of 
variation  of  feeling ;  it  follows  that  each  inflection 
or  modulation  is  the  natural  outcome  of  some  passing 
emotion  or  sensation  ;  and  it  follows  that  the  explana- 
tion of  all  kinds  of  vocal  expression  must  be  sought 
in  this  general  relation  between  mental  and  muscular 
excitements."  Thus  the  philosophy  of  evolution  con- 
firms in  a  general  way  the  conclusions,  with  reference  to 
the  developments  of  verbal  sounds,  that  have  been  drawn 
here.  The  emotive  element,  representing  the  "  relation 
between  mental  and  muscular  excitements,"  or,  to  put  it 
in  our  own  language,  between  the  reflective  and  instinctive 
tendencies,  using  and  blending  the  results  of  the  former 
as  manifested  in  imitative  words,  and  of  the  latter  as 
manifested  in  words  formed  from  ejaculations,  gives  us  the 
intonations  of  consecutive  speech.  On  the  representative 
character  of  these,  aside  from  that  of  verbal  significance, 
are  based  the  principles  of  elocution,  and  on  these  last,  as 
we  shall  find,  are  based  the  principles  of  poetry,  so  far  as 
this  is  dependent  on  elements  of  sound. 

stinctive,  while  the  latter  is  a  more  full  and  complex  development  of  that 
"reflex  action,"  to  use  the  words  of  Spencer,  "in  which  we  see  the  in- 
cipient differentiation  of  the  psychical  (or  reflective)  from  the  physical  life." 
He  also  says  that  "  the  same  progress  which  gives  origin  to  memory  and 
reason  simultaneously  gives  origin  to  feeling,"  by  which  he  must  mean  that 
the  emotive  nature  has  that  in  it  which  corresponds  to  the  lowest  as  well  as 
the  highest  states  of  conscious  intelligence.  He  adds,  too,  that  "  so  long  as 
the  actions  are  perfectly  automatic,  feeling  does  not  exist,"  by  which  he 
seems  to  indicate  that,  in  his  opinion,  will  and  feeling  are  related,  as  has 
been  intimated  here.  Notice  also  in  the  main  text  the  quotations  from 
Spencer  with  reference  to  the  subject  immediately  before  us. 


CHAPTER  II. 

CONVERSATION,   DISCOURSE,    ELOCUTION,    AND    VERSIFI- 
CATION. 

Representative  Character  of  Intonations — Every  Man  has  a  Rhythm  and  a 
Tune  of  his  Own — Physiological  Reason  for  this — Cultivated  by  Public 
Speaking — Recitative,  and  the  Origin  of  Poetic  and  Musical  Melody — 
Poetry,  Song,  Dance,  all  connected  ;  but  not  developed  from  each  Other 
— Poetic  Pause  and  Accent  are  developed  only  from  Speech — Pause 
the  Source  of  Verse — Breathing  and  the  Line — Hebrew  Parallelism ; 
Greek — The  Caesura — Accent,  the  Source  of  Rhythm  and  Tune — Feet: 
how  produced  in  English  ;  in  the  Classic  Languages — Metrical  Possi- 
bilities of  English. 

"\XT  E  all  must  have  noticed  that  a  child  too  young  to 
talk,  a  foreigner  using  a  language  unknown  to  us, 
a  friend  speaking  at  such  a  distance  from  us  that  his  words 
are  indistinguishable,  can  all  reveal  to  us,  with  a  certain 
degree  of  definiteness,  the  general  tenor  of  their  thoughts. 
Their  tones,  aside  from  their  words,  enable  us  to  under- 
stand such  facts  as  whether  they  are  hurried  or  at  leisure, 
elated  or  depressed,  in  earnest  or  indifferent,  pleased  or 
angered.  This  is  so  because  these  facts  are  directly  repre- 
sented by  their  intonations.  Developed  with  design,  these 
may  be  made  to  resemble  those  of  the  foremost  actors 
and  orators.  Hence  the  art  of  elocution.  Developed 
without  design,  they  instinctively  come  to  imitate  those  of 
the  people  with  whom  one  most  associates.  Scotchmen, 
Irishmen,  Englishmen,  and  Americans  can  all  be  distin- 
guished by  the  different  ways  in  which  they  utter  the  same 

19 


20  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

phrases.  No  two  of  them  will  emphasize  precisely  alike  a 
simple  expression  such  as  "  I  can't  go  there  to-day." 

Not  only  men  of  different  nations  can  be  distinguished 
thus,  but  even  different  individuals.  Any  one  well  known 
to  us  can  be  recognized  in  the  dark  by  what  we  term 
his  voice,  by  which  we  mean  his  method  of  using  his 
voice  ;  the  way,  peculiar  to  himself,  of  pausing  at  certain 
intervals  and  hurrying  at  others,  of  sliding  his  sounds  up 
and  down  on  certain  syllables  and  phrases,  and  also,  per- 
haps, of  giving  in  certain  places  an  unusual  stress  or 
quality  of  tone.  All  these  methods  impress  his  individu- 
ality on  every  thing  that  he  has  to  say.  If  he  becomes  a 
public  speaker,  his  peculiarities  in  these  regards  become 
still  more  marked.  Unconsciously,  if  not  consciously,  he 
develops  them  so  that,  in  his  delivery,  similar  intonations 
recur  with  a  certain  degree  of  regularity ;  in  other  words, 
he  comes  to  have  what  may  be  termed  a  rhythm  and  a  tune 
of  his  own.  The  reason  why  he  comes  to  have  these  is, 
undoubtedly,  mainly  physiological,  as  is  intimated  by 
Herbert  Spencer  in  his  "  Essay  on  Style,"  and  Grant 
Allen  in  his  "  Physiological  ./Esthetics."  It  is  owing  to  a 
natural  tendency  to  economize  labor.  Just  as  the  swing- 
ing of  the  hands  enables  one  to  walk  more  easily,  so  what 
may  be  termed  the  swinging  of  the  tones  enables  one  to 
talk  more  easily.  So,  also,  as  we  shall  find  by-and-bye,  do 
verse  and  measure,  to  which  these  intonations  naturally 
lead.  The  two  together  separate  the  words  and  syllables, 
and  make  them  accord  with  the  natural  actions  of  the 
lungs  and  throat. 

But  let  us  waive  this  thought,  until  we  reach  it  in  its 
proper  place.  Before  the  age  of  books  those  who  prepared 
literature  published  it  by  repeating  it  in  public.  Every 
man  who  did  this  had,  of  course,  his  own  peculiarities  of 


DISCOURSE  AND   VERSIFICATION.  21 

utterance,  which,  as  he  continued  to  repeat  his  pro- 
ductions, he  would  cultivate  and  render  more  and  more 
peculiar;  just  as  is  the  case  to-day  with  the  venders  who 
cry  in  our  streets,  the  clerks  who  read  in  our  courts,  and 
the  priests  who  intone  the  services  in  our  churches. 
These  peculiarities,  moreover,  would  be  shown  not  only  in 
the  elocution  of  the  reciter,  but  in  the  arrangement  of  his 
words  and  sentences,  so  as  to  fit  them  to  his  elocution. 
At  the  outset,  every  literary  man  would  have  his  own 
style  of  delivery  and  composition,  and  confine  himself  to 
it.  But  after  a  little,  just  as  men  of  the  same  districts, 
and  preachers  and  exhorters  of  the  same  religious  sects — 
Quakers,  Methodists,  or  Episcopalians, — imitate  one  an- 
other ;  so  these  public  reciters  would  drift  into  imitation. 
Before  long,  too,  it  would  be  found  that  one  style  of  ex- 
pression, or  form  of  words,  was  better  suited  for  one  set  of 
ideas,  and  another  for  another  set ;  so,  in  time,  the  same 
reciter  would  come  to  use  different  styles  or  forms  for 
different  subjects.  Only  a  slight  knowledge  of  history  is 
needed  in  order  to  prove  that  this  is  what  has  actually 
taken  place.  Pindaric  metre,  and  possibly  Homeric,  as 
also  the  Alcaic  and  Sapphic  stanzas  of  the  Greeks,  were 
used  first  by  the  poets  whose  names  they  bear ;  but  to-day 
they  are  used  by  many  others  who  find  them  the  best  forms 
through  which  to  express  what  they  wish  to  write. 

But  to  return  to  our  line  of  thought.  A  further  de- 
velopment in  the  direction  already  indicated,  would  cause 
these  reciters  after  a  time  to  use  versification,  so  that 
their  rhythms  and  the  variations  in  them  might  be  more 
clearly  marked ;  and  still  later,  that  the  precise  length  of 
their  verses  might  be  apparent,  as  well  as  to  assist  the 
memory  in  retaining  them,  they  would  use  rhymes.  Fur- 
ther developments  in  the  direction  of  rhythm  and  tune, 


22  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

introducing  greater  variety  in  both,  and  making  the  tones 
more  and  more  sustained,  would  lead  to  the  singing  of 
songs — that  is,  to  poetry  set  to  musical  melody. 

Such,  crudely  outlined,  seems  to  be  the  most  rational  ex- 
planation of  the  rise  of  poetic  forms.  It  is  true  that  some, 
like  Dr.  J.  H.  Heinrich  Schmidt,  in  his  "  Introduction  to 
the  Rhythmic  and  Metric  of  the  Classic  Languages,"  hold 
that  "  poetry  and  music  had  their  origin  in  the  dance  and 
song,"  and  that  "  it  must  be  carefully  borne  in  mind  that 
recited  poetry  was  developed  from  song."  But  while  he 
maintains  this  theory,  Dr.  Schmidt  is  obliged  to  admit 
that  it  cannot  be  substantiated  by  the  known  facts  of 
history.  He  says  that  the  march-melodies,  dance-melodies, 
and  purely  lyric  melodies,  which,  he  believes,  to  have  pre- 
ceded recitative  poetry,  were  so  inferior  in  quality  that 
none  of  them  have  come  down  to  us.  Of  the  products 
which  have  come  down  to  us,  "  recitative  poetry,  power- 
fully developed  in  the  great  national  epics  (Homer, 
Hesiod,  Arctinus,  Stasinus,  etc.),  comes  first.  Then  purely 
lyrical  poetry  appears  with  Callinus,  Archilochus,  etc.  The 
first  march-melodies  were  written  by  Tyrtaeus  for  the 
Spartans.  And  about  the  same  time  we  hear  of  the  first 
choric  compositions  (i.  e.y  dance-melodies),  those,  namely, 
of  Alcman  and  Stesichorus." 

This  order  of  development,  it  will  be  seen,  corresponds 
to  that  of  the  theory  just  presented  here.  But,  while  we 
hold  this  theory,  perhaps  we  should  be  going  too  far,  did 
we  carry  it  to  the  extreme  that  Herbert  Spencer  does  in 
his  "  Essay  on  the  Origin  and  Function  of  Music,"  in 
which  he  seems  to  argue  that  every  thing  that  we  have  in 
music  is  merely  a  development  of  the  forms  of  speech.  It 
seems  more  likely  that  both  music  and  speech,  the  one 
instinctive  in  its  nature,  and  the  other  reflective,  are 


DISCOURSE  AND  VERSIFICATION.  2$ 

equally  differentiated  from  a  primitive  ejaculatory  form  of 
utterance.  Speech,  as  we  have  it,  originated  with  man ; 
but  long  before  the  existence  of  man,  there  must  have 
been  lower  orders  of  creation  in  which  the  tendencies 
subsequently  developed  into  speech  and  music,  both 
existed  in  distinct  and  different  forms.  In  fact,  all  the 
modes  of  expression  mentioned  by  Schmidt — talking, 
singing,  and  dance-gesturing — have  correspondences, 
respectively,  in  the  chirping,  singing,  and  fluttering  of  the 
bird.  Spencer  is  undoubtedly  right  in  saying  that  poetry 
is  "  a  form  of  speech  used  for  the  better  expression  of 
emotional  ideas."  It,  and  all  the  higher  forms  of  elo- 
quence, are  developed  from  talking  with  a  musical  or — 
what  is  the  same  thing — an  emotional  motive.  And 
Schmidt  is  undoubtedly  right  in  recognizing  that  the 
three  forms  of  expression  which  he  mentions  have  a  ten- 
dency to  run  into  one  another.  Whether  one  start  out 
to  talk,  or  sing,  or  gesture,  he  may  end  by  doing  all  three. 
This  fact  has  been  true,  probably,  as  long  as  man  has 
existed  ;  and  in  this  sense,  dance  and  song — /.  e.,  music  in 
connection  with  rhythmical  language,  undoubtedly  pre- 
ceded the  earliest  known  recitative  poems.  But  it  is  a 
different  thing  to  say  that  poetry,  which  is  distinctively 
an  artistic  development  of  language,  is  nothing  but  a 
development  of  dance  and  song.  In  no  true  sense  can 
this  be  affirmed,  although  of  course  poetry,  music,  and 
dancing  have  all  influenced  one  another,  and  in  important 
particulars  the  principles  underlying  all  are  the  same. 

It  has  been  shown  from  analogy  that  language,  as  used 
by  the  early  reciters,  had  a  natural  tendency  to  become 
rhythmical ;  also  from  history,  that  the  various  forms  of 
existing  poetry  were  developed  from  the  recitative.  The 
strongest  argument  in  favor  of  the  view  just  advanced, 


24  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

however,  has  yet  to  be  presented.  It  is  found  in  the  fact 
that  the  elements  of  all  poetic,  as  well  as  of  elocutionary 
forms,  can  be  traced  to  the  physical  requirements  of  the 
organs  of  speech,  and  to  these  not  as  they  are  used  in 
singing,  but,  distinctively,  in  talking,  One  can  sing  with- 
out suggesting  any  thing  that  can  be  developed  into  verse 
or  rhythm  ;  but  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  talk,  without 
suggesting  what  can  be  developed  into  both.  In  order  to 
recognize  the  truth  of  this  statement,  we  have  merely  to 
listen  to  a  man  talking.  As  we  do  so,  two  characteristics 
of  speech  will  at  once  attract  our  attention.  One  is  the 
pause  or  cessation  of  sound,  following  groups  of  syllables, 
which  form  phrases  or  sentences,  containing  anywhere 
from  two  to  a  dozen  words  ;  the  other  is  the  accent,  given 
to  every  second,  third,  or  fourth  syllable.  This  word 
accent  is  used  here,  by  the  way,  not  in  its  restricted  classic 
etymological  sense  (from  ad  and  cano,  to  sing  to),  which  will 
be  explained  hereafter,  but  in  its  modern  English  sense, 
meaning  merely  the  emphasis  or  ictus  given  to  certain 
syllables.  Results  that  are  universal — and  the  pause  and 
accent  are  so,  notwithstanding  the  alleged  lack  of  the 
latter  in  the  French  language — are  usually  founded  on 
requirements  of  nature. 

The  pause  results,  primarily,  from  the  construction  of 
the  human  lungs ;  the  accent,  from  that  of  the  human 
throat.  The  speaker  checks  his  utterance  in  order  to 
breathe  ;  he  accents  it  because  the  current  of  sound — in 
talking,  but  not  in  singing — flows  through  the  vocal 
passages  in  a  manner  similar  to  that  in  which  the  blood 
pulses  through  the  veins,  or  fluid  is  emptied  from  the 
neck  of  a  bottle — i.  e.,  with  what  may  be  termed  alternate 
active  and  passive  movements.  The  active  movements, 
which  cause  the  accents,  open  the  throat  more  freely  than 


THE  PAUSE  AND  VERSIFICATION.  2$ 

the  passive  ones,  and  in  doing  so  may  change,  as  will  be 
shown  hereafter,  either  the  duration,  force,  pitch,  or 
quality  of  the  tone,  or  all  of  these  together.  Observe  the 
difference  between  the  accented  and  unaccented  syllables 
erf  tartarize,  Singsing,  murmuring,  barbarous,  sassafras, 
Lulu,  papa. 

It  is  only  necessary  to  observe  these  facts  in  order  to 
recognize  that  the  line  in  verse,  at  the  end  of  which,  when 
regularly  constructed,  the  reader  necessarily  pauses,  is  an 
artistic  development  of  the  phrase,  which  we  find  in  all 
natural  conversation.  In  fact,  Aristotle,  in  his  Rhetoric, 
seems  to  hint  at  some  such  a  development  in  prose,  for  he 
says  the  period  must  be  divided  into  clauses,  easily  pro- 
nounced at  a  breath,  ei  avaiTtvsvGros.  It  is  generally  ac- 
knowledged that  the  principal  mental  process  involved  in 
art-construction  is  comparison.  This  causes  all  men,  both 
consciously  and  unconsciously,  both  for  convenience  and 
pleasure,  to  take  satisfaction  in  putting  like  with  like. 
The  moment  this  tendency  is  applied  to  groups  of  sylla- 
bles separated  by  pauses,  it  leads  men  to  place,  if  possible, 
a  like  number  of  syllables  in  each  group,  and  thus  have 
between  the  pauses  like  intervals  of  time.  But  an  arrange- 
ment of  this  kind  is  the  primary  characteristic  of  verse. 
Take  one  of  the  earliest  verse-forms — Hebrew  parallelism 
— so  called  because  made  up  of  two  phrases,  each  of 
which  contains  a  parallel  or  equivalent  statement : 

I  will  bless  the  Lord  at  all  times  ; 

His  praise  shall  continually  be  in  my  mouth. 

My  soul  shall  make  her  boast  in  the  Lord  ; 
The  humble  shall  hear  thereof,  and  be  glad. 

O  magnify  the  Lord  with  me  ; 
And  let  us  exalt  his  name  together. 


26  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

I  sought  the  Lord,  and  he  heard  me  ; 
And  delivered  me  from  all  my  fears. 

— Psalms  xxxiv.,  1-4. 

Even  the  English  translation  shows  that  this  was  con- 
structed  according  to  the  principle  just  mentioned.  The 
Hebrew,  feeling  that  the  end  of  the  sentence  was  the 
appropriate  place  in  which  to  pause,  and  wishing  to  pause 
at  regular  intervals,  tried  to  make  his  sentences  of  equal 
length.  This  was  his  way  of  producing  the  same  effect 
that  we  have  in  our  verse.  The  method  of  the  early 
Greek,  too,  seems  to  have  been  the  same.  "  In  recitative 
poetry,"  says  Schmidt,  to  whom  I  have  already  referred, 
"  which  appropriated  to  itself  the  simplest  forms,  occurs 
the  most  primitive  sort  of  rhythmical  period,  the  recitative 
verse  ;  this  consists  of  two  sentences,"  similar  in  arrange- 
ment  to  that  of  the  Hebrew,  "which  either  have  equal 
length,  or  the  second  of  which  is  catalectic  or  '  falling,'  or 
is  even  shortened  by  an  entire  measure." 

In  the  later  Greek  poetry,  however,  as  in  our  own,  the 
length  of  the  line  does  not  determine  the  length  of  the 
sentence.  But  it  does,  or  at  least  should,  determine  the 
length  of  the  phrases ;  because,  as  we  have  found,  the  reader 
naturally  pauses  at  the  end  of  the  line.  If  this  be  long, 
he  also  pauses  at  some  other  place,  usually  in  the  middle 
of  the  line.  This  latter  pause  is  called  the  caesura,  from  a 
Latin  word  meaning  a  division.  Here  are  lines  with  the 
caesura  indicated  by  a  bar  : 

Brought  from  the  woods  |  the  honeysuckle  twines 
Around  the  porch,  |  and  seems  in  that  trim  place 
A  plant  no  longer  wild  ;  |  the  cultured  rose 
There  blossoms,  strong  in  health,  |  and  will  be  soon 
Roof  high  ;  |  the  wild  pink  crowns  the  garden  wall, 
And  with  the  flowers  |  are  intermingled  stones 
Sparry  and  bright,  |  rough  scatterings  of  the  hills. 

— Excursion,  6  :   Wordsworth* 


ACCENT  AND  VERSIFICATION.  2J 

The  caesura  pause  need  not  necessarily  come  in  the 
middle  of  the  line,  e.  g.  : 

— Death  his  dart 
Shook,  |  but  delayed  to  strike,  though  oft  invoked. 

— Par.  Lost,  II :  Milton. 

Have  found  him  guilty  of  high  treason.  |  Much 
He  spoke  and  learnedly. 

—Henry  VIII.,  2  ;   i :  Shakespear. 

For  reasons  to  be  given  hereafter,  the  pause  at  the  end 
of  the  line  is  much  more  apparent  where  rhymes  are 
used,  e.  g. : 

In  arguing,  too,  the  pastor  owned  his  skill, 
For  e'en  though  vanquished  he  could  argue  still, 
While  words  of  learned  length  and  thundering  sound 
Amazed  the  gazing  rustics  ranged  around, 
And  still  they  gazed  and  still  the  wonder  grew, 
That  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew. 

—Deserted  Village:  Goldsmith. 

In  the  same  way  as  the  pause  is  developed  into  verse, 
accent  is  developed  into  rhythm  and  the  tunes  of  verse, 
— two  characteristics  of  poetic  form  which  necessarily  go 
together,  just  as  do  their  analogues  in  the  arts  appealing 
to  the  eye,  proportion  and  color.  Some  may  doubt  that 
accent  is  the  basis  of  rhythm  and  tune,  but  it  is  really 
about  all  that  the  majority  of  men  know  of  either.  With 
exceptions,  the  fewness  of  which  confirms  the  rule,  all  of 
our  English  words  of  more  than  one  syllable  must  neces- 
sarily be  accented  in  one  way ;  and  all  of  our  articles, 
prepositions,  and  conjunctions  of  one  syllable  are  unac- 
cented, unless  the  sense  very  plainly  demands  a  different 
treatment.  These  two  facts  enable  us  to  arrange  any  num- 
ber of  our  words  so  that  the  accents  shall  fall  on  syllables 
separated  by  like  intervals.  The  tendency  to  compare 
things,  and  to  put  like  with  like,  which  is  in  constant 


28  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

operation  where  there  are  artistic  possibilities,  leads  men 
to  take  satisfaction  in  this  kind  of  an  arrangement ;  and 
when  they  have  made  it,  they  have  produced  rhythm. 

A  larger  rhythm  makes  prominent  as  in  prose,  every 
second  or  third  accent ;  but  metrical  rhythm,  i.  e.,  metre, 
regards  every  accent.  When  reading  verse,  the  accents 
seem  to  mark  it  off;  if  marching,  our  feet  would  keep 
time  to  them.  Hence,  as  many  syllables  as  can  be  grouped 
about  one  syllable  clearly  accented,  are  termed  a  measure 
or  foot, — words  synonymous  as  applied  to  English  verse; 
though  the  classic  measure  sometimes  contained  two  feet. 
Here  are  feet  separated  by  bars: 

Tell  me  |  not  in  |  mournful  |  numbers 

The  train  |  from  out  |  the  cas  |  tie  drew 

Over  the  |  roadways  and  |  on  through  the  |  villages 

There  came  to  |  the  beach  a  |  poor  exile  |  of  Erin 

O'er  the  land  |  of  the  free  |  and  the  home  |  of  the  brave 

Roses  are  in  |  blossom  and  the  |  rills  are  filled  with  ]  water-cresses 

The  king  has  come  |  to  marshal  us  |  in  all  his  ar  |  mor  dressed. 

The  number  of  measures  in  a  line  determines  its  metre; 
Hence  the  use  of  the  Greek  terms,  monometer,  meaning 
a  line  of  one  measure,  and  dimeter,  trimeter,  tetrameter, 
pentameter,  hexameter,  etc.,  meaning  respectively  a  line 
of  two,  three,  four,  five,  and  six  measures. 

All  this,  however,  need  scarcely  be  known  as  a  prepara- 
tion either  for  writing  or  reading  English  verse.  The 
poet  has  only  to  arrange  his  words  so  that  the  accents 
will  recur  at  like  intervals,  and  very  few  for  whom  he 
writes  will  fail  to  recognize  the  character  of  his  rhythm, 
and  to  measure  it  off  correctly  in  their  reading.  It 
is  true  that,  if  unusual  measures  are  used,  it  may  be  neces- 
sary to  put  long  words,  or  those  in  which  the  accent  is 
unmistakable,  at  the  beginning  of  the  first  line  or  two, 


ACCENT  AND  VERSIFICATION.  2$ 

but,  the  clew  once  given,  the  rhythm  will  take  care  of 
itself.  The  smallest  children,  able  to  talk,  catch  with 
ease  the  movements  of  Mother  Goose's  melodies,  some  of 
which  contain  metres  as  complicated  as  are  ever  con- 
structed. 

In  the  classic  languages  metre  was  determined  by  the 
quantities  or  relative  lengths  of  the  vowel-sounds  or  con- 
sonant-sounds composing  the  syllables.  Our  own  lan- 
guage is  not  spelled  phonetically,  and  therefore  we  fail  to 
notice  the  effect  of  similar  elements  in  it.  Yet  they  are 
present  to  a  greater  extent  than  we  ordinarily  suppose,  as 
will  be  brought  out  clearly  when  we  come  to  consider 
quantity,  especially  that  which  is  used  in  the  English 
hexameter.  Any  one  acquainted  with  the  subject,  knows 
that  it  is  a  mistake  to  hold  that  quantity  has  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  the  movements  of  our  metres,  and 
an  analogous  mistake,  probably,  would  be  made  in  suppos- 
ing that  the  emphasis  of  ordinary  pronunciation  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  movements  of  the  classic  metres. 
Notice  what  Schmidt  has  to  say  on  this  subject  in  the 
quotation  from  his  "  Introduction  to  the  Rhythmic  and 
Metric  of  the  Classic  Languages,"  given  in  the  ninth 
chapter  of  this  work.  It  is  true  that,  in  constructing 
verse,  the  Greeks  and  Romans  subordinated  every  thing 
else  to  quantity ;  but  they  did  so  in  order  to  produce  a 
rhythmic  effect  when  chanting  their  lines,  analogous  to 
that  which  we  produce  when  reading  ours  according  to 
accent.  Unlike  ourselves,  however,  if,  in  composing,  they 
came  to  a  word  in  which  long  quantity  and  the  ordinary 
accent  did  not  go  together,  they  seem  always  to  have 
been  at  liberty  to  disregard  the  accent,  and  occasionally, 
too,  to  change  the  quantity.  At  the  same  time,  that 
which  controlled  their  action  in  the  matter  appears  to 


30  POETRY  AS  A    REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

have  been  largely  a  consideration  of  convenience.  In 
serious  poety,  it  was  lawful  for  them  to  produce  results 
not  wholly  unlike  that  in  the  third  rhyme  of  the  follow- 
ing, the  classic  quality  of  which  some  of  us  hitherto  may 
not  have  recognized : 

For  he  might  have  been  a  Roosian, 
A  French,  or  Turk,  or  Proosian, 

Or  perhaps  I-tal-i-an. 
But  in  spite  of  all  temptations 
To  belong  to  other  nations, 

He  remains  an  Englishman. 

— Pinafore  :  Gilbert. 

Our  poets,  on  the  contrary,  base  the  rhythms  of  their 
verse  on  the  accents  of  the  standard  pronunciation,  and 
to  these  subordinate  all  considerations  of  quantity.  The 
result,  as  compared  with  the  language  of  our  prose,  is 
more  natural  than  that  reached  by  the  other  method ;  and 
in  its  way  is  fully  as  artistic.  Nor,  in  other  regards,  is 
English  inferior  to  the  classic  tongues  in  its  capabilities 
of  artistic  treatment.  Owing  to  an  extensive  use  of  ter- 
minations in  nouns,  articles,  pronouns,  adjectives,  and 
verbs,  in  order  to  indicate  different  grammatical  relation- 
ships, the  Greeks  and  Romans  could  change  the  order 
of  words  in  a  sentence  without  changing  its  meaning. 
In  their  language,  "  The  dog  ate  the  wolf,"  with  slightly 
varied  terminations,  could  read,  "  The  wolf  ate  the  dog." 
For  this  reason,  they  could  alter  their  phraseology,  in 
order  to  accommodate  it  to  the  requirements  of  metre,  as 
is  not  possible  for  us ;  and  so  far  they  had  an  advantage 
over  us.  Nevertheless,  for  some  reason,  when  they  came 
to  put  their  words  into  verse,  every  school-boy  who  tries 
to  scan,  knows  that  they  produced  a  language  which, 
like  the  present  French  poetic  diction,  sounded  unlike 


ACCENT  AND  VERSIFICATION.  31 

that  of  conversation.  Even  supposing,  with  some  schol- 
ars, that  in  reading  they  did  not  scan  their  verses  as  we  do 
now,  nor  even  chant  them  invariably,  as  some  infer  was 
the  case,  their  poetical  language  was  not  the  same  as  their 
spoken  language.  Aristotle  tells  us,  when  mentioning 
things  which  it  is  legitimate  for  the  poet  to  do,  that  he 
can  invent  new  words,  that  he  can  expand  old  ones,  either 
by  lengthening  vowels  or  by  adding  syllables,  that  he  can 
contract  them  by  shortening  vowels  or  omitting  syllables, 
and  that  he  can  alter  them  in  various  other  ways.  Spenser 
and  others  since  him  have  applied  similar  methods  to  Eng- 
lish poetic  diction  ;  but,  at  present,  such  changes  are  not 
considered  admissible,  except  in  rare  instances,  and  this  be- 
cause they  are  recognized  to  be  unnecessary.  The  fact  that 
they  are  not  admissible  in  our  language,  and  were  admissi- 
ble in  the  classic  languages,  proves  that,  in  one  regard  at 
least,  our  language  is  superior  to  them  as  a  medium  of  metre. 
The  following  is  a  typical  English  stanza.  In  it  there  are 
no  changes  from  ordinary  prose  in  the  arrangement,  spell- 
ing, or  pronunciation  of  any  of  the  words : 

"  Tell  me  not  in  mournful  numbers 
Life  is  but  an  empty  dream, 
For  the  soul  is  dead  that  slumbers, 
And  things  are  not  what  they  seem." 

— Psalm  of  Life  :  Longfellow. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ELOCUTION:    ITS    REPRESENTATIVE    ELEMENTS     CLASSI- 
FIED. 

Pause  and  Accent — Analyzed,  the  Former  gives  us  the  Element  of  Duration  ; 
the  Latter  gives  Duration,  Force,  Pitch,  and  Quality — Must  find  What 
each  Element  represents  in  DISCOURSIVE  ELOCUTION,  developed  from 
Ejaculatory  or  Instinctive  Modes  of  Utterance,  and  in  DRAMATIC 
ELOCUTION,  developed  from  Imitative  or  Reflective  Utterance  ;  and 
then  apply  to  Poetry — General  Statement  of  What  is  represented  by 
Duration,  Force,  Pitch,  and  Quality  ;  Rhythm  the  Effect  of  the  First 
Two,  and  Tune  of  the  Last  Two. 

TTAVING  sufficiently  established  now  the  general 
fact  that  certain  poetic  forms  are  traceable  to 
the  pause  and  accent  of  ordinary  conversation,  we  are 
prepared  to  pass  on  and  ask  what  these  forms  represent  ? 
To  answer  this  we  must  decide  first  what  the  pause  and 
accent  represent ;  and,  after  that,  try  to  determine  whether, 
in  any  sense,  they  represent  corresponding  ideas  when 
developed  into  the  forms  of  poetry.  Let  us  pursue  our 
inquiry  in  the  order  thus  suggested. 

What  the  pause  and  accent  represent  can  be  ascertained 
only  by  a  reference  to  the  principles  of  elocution.  This 
art,  as  we  know,  has  the  power  of  producing  an  almost 
endless  variety  of  effects,  and  all  these,  as  a  moment's 
thought  will  show  us,  simply  by  making  more  or  less  em- 
phatic the  very  pauses  and  accents  now  engaging  our 
attention.  In  these,  therefore,  must  be  enfolded  many 
possibilities  of  expression  capable  of  development.  Let 

32 


ELOCUTIONARY  ELEMENTS  CLASSIFIED.  33 

us  try  to  ascertain  what  they  are.  Looking  first,  then,  at 
the  pause,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  its  only  element  is  that  of 
duration.  We  can  extend  it  over  longer  or  shorter  time. 
In  accent,  however,  on  comparing  the  accented  and  unac- 
cented syllables  of  words  like  barbarous,  murmuring,  tar- 
tarize,  Singsing,  and  papa,  we  can  clearly  detect  four  ele- 
ments. The  accented  syllable  differs  slightly  from  the 
unaccented — first,  in  duration:  it  is  sounded  in  longer 
time ;  second,  in  force  :  it  is  sounded  with  more  energy  ; 
third,  in  pitch:  it  is  sounded  on  a  key  that,  if  used  in 
music,  would  be  relatively  higher  or  lower  in  the  musical 
scale  ;  and  fourth,  in  quality  :  it  is  sounded  with  more  ful- 
ness or  sharpness  of  tone.  Simply  by  increasing  the 
degree  in  which  any  of  these  elements  enter  into  ordinary 
accentuation,  we  can  increase  the  degree  of  emphasis  rep- 
resented by  them.  We  have  noticed,  already,  how  the 
pause  influences  the  division  of  consecutive  words  into 
verses.  As  applied  to  individual  words,  i.  e.,  when  used 
after  or  before  them,  it  has  evidently  the  same  general 
effect  as  the  prolongation  of  a  sound  ;  it  gives  the  ideas 
expressed  in  the  words  more  duration. 

Let  us  examine  now  what  phases  of  thought  different 
kinds  of  duration,  force,  pitch,  and  quality  are  fitted  to 
represent,  and  see  how  far  they  can  aid  us  in  determining 
what  can  be  represented  by  analogous  poetic  forms.  To 
attain  our  end,  it  will  be  necessary  for  us  to  go  to  elocu- 
tion. 

All  the  principles  of  this  art  can  be  classed  under  two 
heads,  those  of  discoursive  and  of  dramatic  elocution.  The 
first,  generally  termed  the  elocution  of  emphasis,  is  devel- 
oped from  instinctive  methods  of  expression,  and  corre- 
sponds, in  this  regard,  to  words  formed  from  ejaculations. 
It  is  used  mainly  in  oratory.  The  second,  generally 


34  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

termed  the  elocution  of  personation,  is  developed  by  the 
reflective  powers  as  a  result  of  impressions  received  from 
without.  Mimicry,  in  some  form,  underlies  all  its  effects ; 
for  which  reason,  it  will  be  seen  at  once  to  correspond  to 
words  formed  as  a  result  of  imitation,  and  to  be  the  phase 
of  delivery  used  mainly  in  dramatic  acting.  Of  course, 
the  best  elocution  combines  all  the  possibilities  of  the 
art ;  but,  as  a  rule,  the  orator's  chief  aim  is  to  give  expres- 
sion to  his  own  thoughts ;  the  actor's,  to  seem  properly 
impressed  by  thoughts  suggested  by  his  surroundings. 

In  treating  of  duration,  force,  pitch,  and  quality,  it  will 
be  best  to  consider,  first,  the  discoursive,  and  then  the 
dramatic,  uses  of  each ;  and,  in  immediate  connection  with 
them,  to  direct  attention  to  the  corresponding  develop- 
ments in  poetic  form.  More  extended  explanations  and 
illustrations  of  the  elocutionary  part  of  this  subject  may 
be  found  in  the  author's  "  Orator's  Manual."  For  our 
present  purpose,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  state,  briefly,  as 
introductory  to  what  will  be  unfolded  more  fully  as  we 
go  on,  that,  of  the  four  elements  of  emphasis  to  be  exam- 
ined, duration  is  merely  an  external  effect  of  sound,  while 
force,  pitchy  and  quality  are  all  essential  to  the  very  forma- 
tion of  it ;  different  degrees  of  force,  as  we  learn  from 
science,  being  determined  by  the  relative  size  of  the 
vibrations  causing  the  tone  ;  of  pitch,  by  their  relative 
rapidity  ;  and  of  quality,  by  the  relative  size  and  rapidity 
of  those  compounded  together,  in  order  to  produce  any 
apparently  single  tone — almost  every  tone,  as  science  has 
ascertained,  being  a  compound. 

With  reference  to  the  significance  of  these  elements, 
while  it  is  true  that  all,  in  a  general  way,  represent,  as  has 
been  said,  emotive  effects,  all  of  them  represent  also  cer- 
tain peculiar  phases  of  such  effects.  These,  as  manifested 


ELOCUTIONARY  ELEMENTS   CLASSIFIED.  35 

in  dramatic  elocution,  of  course  interpret  themselves.  In 
discoursive  elocution,  duration  measures  the  utterance — 
that  is,  it  represents  the  mind's  measurement  of  its  ideas, — 
one  indication,  by  the  way,  of  the  appropriateness  of  the 
poetic  term,  meters,  or  measures,  which  result  from  giving 
different  kinds  of  duration  to  syllables  ;  force  energizes 
utterance ;  pitch  aims  it ;  and  quality  tempers  it.  Of  the 
last  three,  again,  force  imparts  fl/iyszgue  to  delivery;  pitch, 
intellectuality,  and  quality,  emotion  or  soul,  by  which,  as 
has  been  explained,  is  meant  that  balancing  and  blending 
of  physical  and  intellectual  tendencies  which  manifest 
the  degree  in  which  the  man  is  master  or  slave  of  body  or 
mind.  Or,  finally,  to  make  a  classification  as  comprehen- 
sive as  possible  of  all  the  factors  in  our  problem,  it  may 
be  said  that  duration,  in  a  general  way,  represents  the 
promptings  of  the  instinctive  feelings,  and  the  other  three 
elements  those  of  the  reflective  feelings.  Pure  instinct 
leads  to  fast  time,  reflective  instinct  to  slow  time,  and 
the  general  movement  or  measure  is  the  resultant  of 
both.  The  degrees  of  instinctive  influence  connected 
with  reflective  feeling  are  represented  in  force ;  of  purely 
reflective  influence,  in  pitch  ;  and  of  the  equilibrium  main- 
tained between  the  instinctive  and  reflective  influences,  in 
quality.  Besides  this,  it  is  well  to  notice  that  duration 
and  force  together  are  essential  to  the  effects  of  rhythm, 
and  pitch  and  quality  together  to  those  of  tune ;  rhythm 
resulting  from  the  measure  of  time  or  movement  by  regu- 
larly recurring  impulses  perceptible  in  the  physical  world ; 
and  tune  from  a  similar  cause,  detected  only  by  scientific 
analysis,  operating  through  vibrations  upon  our  inner 
nervous  and  mental  organism. 

These   statements  are  preliminary.     They  will  be  ex- 
plained and  illustrated  when  the  proper  time  comes — that 


36  POETRY  AS  A    REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

is,  in  places  where  they  will  fall  into  line,  so  as  to  further 
the  object  of  our  present  undertaking,  which,  as  we  must 
remember,  is  to  show  not  what  these  forms  are,  but  what, 
in  elocution  and  poetry,  they  are  fitted  to  represent. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

ELOCUTIONARY  AND   POETIC  DURATION. 

The  Elements  entering  into  Rhythm,  Duration,  and  Force — Duration : 
Fast  Time  Instinctive,  representing  Unimportant  Ideas  ;  Slow  Time 
Reflective,  representing  Important  Ideas  ;  Movement  a  Combination 
of  the  Two — The  Pause  as  used  in  Elocution  ;  in  Poetry,  at  the  ends 
of  Lines  ;  in  the  Caesura — Run-on  and  End-stopped  Lines — Quantity, 
Short  and  Long,  in  Elocution  and  Poetry  ;  as  produced  by  Vowels  and 
Consonants — Movement  or  Rhythm  as  influenced  by  Pause  and  Quan- 
tity— Feet  of  Three  Syllables  should  represent  Rapidity — Predominat- 
ing Long  Quantity  injures  English  Hexameters — Feet  of  Four  Syllables 
represent  Rapidity. 

"VITE  have  now  to  consider  representation  in  rhythm, 
resulting,  as  has  been  said,  from  a  combination 
of  the  effects  of  duration  and  force.  Taking  up  the  first 
of  these,  it  is  evident  that  in  elocution  duration  may  be 
short  or  long,  or  both  ;  in  the  latter  case  making  pos- 
sible all  the  artistic  developments  of  metre.  Both  experi- 
ence and  reflection  show  us  that  in  the  degree  in  which 
utterances  are  instinctive,  as  they  are  when  under  the 
influence  of  mere  spontaneity,  they  find  expression  in 
short  duration,  or — what  is  the  same  thing — in  fast  time. 
But  when  one  becomes  conscious  of  surrounding  influ- 
ences to  which  he  must  conform  his  phraseology,  these 
put  him  into  a  reflective  mood,  and  under  the  sway  of 
his  impressions,  he  stops  to  think — sometimes  to  think 
twice — of  what  he  is  to  say,  and  so  uses  slow  time ;  or,  to 
look  at  the  subject  from  a  different  view-point,  a  speaker, 

37 


38  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

when  not  desirous  of  conveying  to  others  the  impression 
that  what  he  is  saying  demands  their  serious  considera- 
tion, may  talk  rapidly.  But  when  he  wishes  to  convey 
the  opposite  impression — that  they  should  weigh  his 
statements  with  the  utmost  care, — he  talks  slowly.  From 
noticing  facts  like  these,  we  learn  that  duration  assigns, 
as  has  been  said,  a  mental  weight  or  measure  to  ideas.  If 
these  appeared  for  us  in  space,  we  could  mete  them  out 
in  measurements  of  space.  But  as  they  are  heard  in 
words,  which  occupy  successive  intervals  of  time,  we  must 
indicate  their  weight  or  bulk,  by  shortening  or  lengthen- 
ing their  duration.  Less  or  more  time  given  to  an  utter- 
ance, gives  a  hearer  less  or  more  time  in  which  to  think 
of  the  thoughts  expressed  in  it,  suggesting,  therefore, 
that,  in  the  opinion  of  the  speaker,  they  are  of  less  or  more 
relative  importance. 

This  principle  we  will  apply,  first,  to  the  elocutionary 
pause,  which  leads  us  in  reading  to  check  our  utterance 
not  only  at  the  ends  of  phrases,  as  already  noticed,  but 
also  before  or  after  important  words,  like  those  preceding 
the  bars  in  these  quotations. 

The  people  |  will  carry  us  |  gloriously  |  through  |  this  struggle. 
He  is  pleasing  ;  |  but  |j  is  he  honest  ? 

The  same  principle  applied  to  consecutive  words  causes 
us  to  read  the  unimportant  parenthesis  in  the  following, 
rapidly : 

He  girt  his  fisher's  coat  unto  him  (for  he  was  naked),  and  did  cast  himself 
into  the  sea. — John  xxi.,  7. 

And  the  important  one  in  the  following,  slowly  : 

Let  us  hold  fast  the  profession  of  our  faith  without  wavering  (for  he  is 
faithful  that  promised),  and  let  us  consider  one  another,  to  provoke  unto 
love  and  to  good  works. — Heb.  x.,  23,  24. 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  DURATION.  39 

According  to  dramatic  elocution,  fast  time  indicates 
that  which  moves  rapidly,  and  slow  time  that  which  moves 
slowly  ;  e.  g.  : 

(  He  stayed  n"t  for  brake,  and  he  stopped  not  for  stone, 
as  '         (  He  swam  the  Eske  River  where  ford  there  was  none  ; 

c  But  ere  he  alighted  at  Netherby  glite, 
Slower,     -j  The  br?de  had  consentedt  the  gallant  came  late  ; 

For  a  laggard  in  love,  and  a  dastard  in  war, 
Was  to  wed  the  fair  Ellen  of  brave  Lochinvar. 

— Lochinvar:  Scott. 

Turning  now  to  poetic  form,  we  find  that  the  same 
principles  apply  to  it.  Notice  in  these  stanzas  how  almost 
all  the  important  words  are  placed  before  the  pause  at 
the  end  of  the  line,  or  before  the  caesura-pause  in  the 
middle  of  it. 

Go  not,  happy  day, 
Till  the  maiden  yields. 
Rosy  is  the  west, 
Rosy  is  the  south, 
Rosy  are  her  cheeks, 
And  a  rose  her  mouth. 
When  the  happy  Yes 
Falters  from  her  lips, 
Pass  and  blush  the  news 
O'er  the  glowing  ships. 
Over  blowing  seas, 
Over  seas  at  rest, 
Pass  the  happy  news, 
Blush  it  through  the  West, 
Till  the  red-man  dance,  etc. 

— Ma  ud  :   Tennyson . 

Earth  has  not  any  thing  |  to  show  more  fair  ; 
Dull  would  he  be  of  soul  |  who  could  pass  by 
A  sight  so  touching  |  in  its  majesty. 

****** 

Never  did  sun  |  more  beautifully  steep 

In  his  first  splendor  |  valley,  rock,  or  hill  ; 


4O  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Ne'er  saw  I,  never  felt,  |  a  calm  so  deep. 

The  river  glideth  |  at  his  own  sweet  will. 
Dear  God,  the  very  houses  |  seem  asleep  ; 

And  all  that  mighty  heart  |  is  lying  still. 

—  Westminster  Bridge  :  Wordsworth. 

Of  man's  first  disobedience  |  and  the  fruit 
Of  that  forbidden  tree,  |  whose  mortal  taste 
Brought  death  into  the  world  |  and  all  our  woe, 
With  loss  of  Eden,  |  till  one  greater  man 
Restore  us,  |  and  regain  the  blissful  seat, 
Sing,  heavenly  Muse. 

— Paradise  Lost,  i :  Milton. 

Comrades,  leave  me  here  a  little,  |  while  as  yet  't  is  early  morn  ; 
Leave  me  here  ;  and,  when  you  want  me,  |  sound  upon  the  bugle-horn. 

— Locksley  Hall :   Tennyson. 

Notice,  too,  the  inartistic  effects  produced,  when  the 
voice  does  not  naturally  pause  where  the  lines  are  ended ; 
e.g.: 

Cross  down  her  quiet  hands,  and  smooth 

Down  her  patient  locks  of  silk, 
Cold  and  passive  as  in  truth 

You  your  fingers  in  spilt  milk 
Drew  along  a  marble  floor. 

— Little  Mattie  :  Mrs.  Browning. 

The  speech  in  the  commons,  which  hits  you 

A  sketch  off,  how  dungeons  must  feel, — 
The  official  despatch,  which  commits  you 

From  stamping  out  groans  with  your  heel, — 
Suggestions  in  journal  or  book  for 

Good  efforts  are  praised  as  is  meet. 

— Summing  up  in  Italy  :  Idem. 

With  that  he  fiercely  at  him  flew,  and  laid 

On  hideous  strokes,  with  most  importune  might. 

— Faerie  Queen  :  Spenser. 
— And  some  in  file 

Stand  spelling  false,  while  one  might  walk  to  Mile- 
End  green. 

— Sonnet,  On  the  Detraction,  etc.  :  Milton. 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  DURATION.  41 

In  blank  verse,  these  run-on  lines,  as  they  are  termed, 
in  contrast  to  end-stopped,  are  less  objectionable.  Yet, 
considered  in  themselves,  they  are  inartistic.  In  another 
place,  I  intend  to  speak  of  Shakespear's  use  of  them. 
The  following  are  examples  of  this. 

— and  then  to  breakfast  with 
What  appetite  you  have. 

—Henry  VIII.,  3,  2. 

Yet,  if  that  quarrel,  Fortune  do  divorce 
It  from  the  bearer,  etc. 

— Idem,  2,  3. 

The  effects  of  duration,  however,  are  produced  not  only 
by  the  absence  or  presence  of  the  pause  before  and  after 
words,  but  also  by  shortening  or  prolonging  what  is 
termed  the  quantity  of  a  syllable.  In  elocution,  quantity 
may  sometimes  be  prolonged  at  will ;  in  poetry,  it  is 
usually  determined  by  the  letter-sounds  forming  the 
syllable.  The  rule  is,  that  syllables  composed  of  short 
vowel-sounds,  and  of  consonant-sounds  easy  to  pronounce, 
are  short  in  an  absolute  sense,  as  distinguished  from  a 
relative  sense,  of  which  I  shall  speak  by-and-bye.  A  pre- 
dominance of  these  short  sounds  in  the  style  fits  it  to 
represent  comparatively  unimportant  ideas  ;  e.  g. : 

At  a  pleasant  evening  party,  I  had  taken  down  to  supper 

One  whom  I  will  call  Elvira,  and  we  talked  of  love  and  Tupper. 

********* 
Then  we  let  off  paper  crackers,  each  of  which  contained  a  motto, 
And  she  listened  while  I  read  them,  till  her  mother  told  her  not  to. 

— Ferdinando  and  Elvira  :  Gilbert. 

And,  also,  things  that  move  rapidly,  as  in  the  quotation 
from  Scott  above,  as  well  as  in  these : 

And  he  chirped  and  sang  and  skipped  about,  and  laughed  with  laughter 

hearty. 
He  was  wonderfully  active  for  so  very  stout  a  party. 

— Idem. 


42  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Singing  through  the  forests  ; 

Rattling  over  ridges ; 
Shooting  under  arches , 

Rumbling  over  bridges ; 
Whizzing  through  the  mountains  ; 

Buzzing  o'er  the  vale, — 
Bless  me,  this  is  pleasant, 

Riding  on  the  rail. 

— Railroad  Rhyme  :  Saxe. 

A  predominance,  on  the  contrary,  of  decidedly  long 
vowel-sounds,  or  of  consonant-sounds  difficult  to  pro- 
nounce, makes  the  rhythm  move  slowly,  and  fits  it,  there- 
fore, according  to  the  principles  already  unfolded,  to 
represent  important  ideas  ;  e.  g.  : 

Nor  you,  ye  proud,  impute  to  these  the  fault, 
If  memory  o'er  their  tomb  no  trophies  raise, 

Where  through  the  long-drawn  aisle  and  fretted  vault 
The  pealing  anthem  swells  the  note  of  praise. 

— Elegy  in  a  Country  Church-  Yard  :  Gray. 

And  also  things  that  move  slowly  ;  e.  g.  : 

The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day  ; 

The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea  ; 
The  plowman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way. 

And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me. 

—Idem. 

First  march  the  heavy  mules  securely  slow  ; 

O'er  hills,  o'er  dales,  o'er  crags,  o'er  rocks  they  go. 

— Pope's  Tr.  of  the  Iliad. 

Notice  in  the  following  how  the  short  syllables  in  con- 
nection with  the  irregular  accentuation  of  the  rhythm  in 
the  earlier  lines  contrast  with  the  long  quantities  and 
strongly  marked  accents  of  the  last  line.  Here  we  have 
an  exact  poetic  analogue  for  fast  and  slow  time,  as  also  for 
weak  and  strong  force,  as  used  in  elocution  : 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  DURATION.  43 

The  cherubim  descended  ;  on  the  ground 
Gliding  meteorious,  as  evening  mist 
Ris'n  from  a  river  o'er  the  marish  glides, 
And  gathers  round  fast  at  the  laborer's  heel 
Homeward  returning.     High  in  front  advanced 
The  brandished  sword  of  God  before  them  blazed. 

— Par.  Lost,  12  :  Milton. 

Here,  again,  notice  the  unimportance  and  rapidity  ex- 
pressed in  the  italicized  words  : 

Each  creek  and  bay 

With  fry  innumerable  swarm,  and  shoals 
Of  fish  that  with  their  fins  and  shining  scales 
Glide  under  the  green  wave. 

— Idem,  7. 

Notice  in  the  following,  too,  how,  in  the  lines  beginning 
with  A  league  of  grass,  Tennyson,  by  lengthening  the 
unaccented  syllables  in  washed,  broad,  Waves,  and  creeps, 
retards  the  movement  of  his  verse  to  make  it  represent 
the  slow  flowing  of  the  water: 

Not  wholly  in  the  busy  world,  nor  quite 
Beyond  it,  looms  the  garden  that  I  love. 
News  from  the  humming  city  comes  to  it 
In  sound  of  funeral  or  of  marriage  bells  ; 
And  sitting,  muffled  in  dark  leaves,  you  hear 
The  windy  clanging  of  the  minster  clock  ; 
Although  between  it  and  the  garden  lies 
A  league  of  grass,  -washed  by  a  slow,  broad  stream, 
That,  stirred  with  languid  pulses  of  the  oar, 
Waves  all  its  lazy  lilies,  and  creeps  on, 
Barge-laden,  to  three  arches  of  a  bridge 
Crowned  with  the  minster-towers. 

—  The  Gardener's  Daughter. 

Slowness,  in  the  instances  already  mentioned,  has  been 
produced  mainly  by  long  vowel-sounds.  In  the  fourth, 
fifth,  and  sixth  lines  of  the  following  quotation,  all  of 


44  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

which  is  to  the  point  here,  it  is  produced  by  consonant 
sounds  combined  so  as  to  be  difficult  to  pronounce : 

Soft  is  the  strain  when  zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  smooth  strain  in  smoother  numbers  flows. 

But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore, 

The  hoarse  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar. 

When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw, 

The  line  too  labors  and  the  words  move  slow  ; 

Not  so  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain. 

Flies  o'er  the  bending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  plain. 

— Essay  on  Criticism  :  Pope. 

It  has  been  intimated  that  in  poetry  there  is,  besides  an 
absolute,  a  relative  quantity  of  syllables.  This  latter  de- 
pends upon  the  places  in  the  verse  where  the  accent  falls — 
i.  e.,  upon  the  measure,  which  itself,  as  has  been  said,  re- 
sults from  the  combined  effects  of  the  tendencies,  already 
considered,  to  movement  and  to  rest,  or  to  fast  and  slow 
time.  Just  as  intelligence  measures  off  phrases  and  words 
to  represent  their  relative  importance,  so  psychic  emotion, 
or  the  artistic  feeling  within  us  which  regulates  our  con- 
structive method,  seems  to  take  satisfaction  in  making 
their  accents  conform  to  what  in  a  subtle  way,  perhaps,  it 
recognizes  to  be  representative  of  the  regularities  of  life, 
— regularities,  which — to  say  nothing  about  those  which 
are  external  to  him — every  living  man  experiences  in  the 
recurring  tread  of  his  feet  when  walking,  in  the  heaving 
of  his  chest  when  breathing,  in  the  beating  of  his  heart, 
and  even  in  the  vibrating  of  his  nerves  when  receiving  or 
imparting  impressions.  But  whatever  may  be  the  cause 
or  character  of  these  regular  arrangements,  which  will 
be  unfolded  more  fully  under  the  head  of  force,  they 
exist,  and  have  an  important  bearing  on  those  measure- 
ments  of  ideas  which  we  have  been  considering. 

When  we  are  reading  verse,  the  accented  syllables  seem 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  DURATION.  45 

to  be  used  at  regular  intervals ;  that  is  to  say,  about  the 
same  amount  of  time  is  expected  to  intervene  between 
these  syllables,  no  matter  by  how  many  unaccented  ones 
they  may  be  separated.  Hence,  as  a  rule,  the  more  unac- 
cented syllables  there  are  in  a  line,  or — what  is  the  same 
thing — in  a  measure,  the  more  rapidly  is  it  uttered.  Each 
of  the  four  following  lines,  for  instance,  is  read  in  nearly 
the  same  time.  Yet  the  first  contains  only  seven  syllables, 
and  the  last  eleven.  Of  course,  these  latter,  in  order  to  be 
uttered  in  the  same  time  as  the  preceding  seven,  must  be 
read  more  rapidly. 

She  had  dreams  all  yester  night 

Of  her  own  betrothed  knight, 

And  she  in  the  midnight  wood  will  pray 

For  the  weal  of  her  lover  that 's  far  away. 

— Christabel :  Coleridge. 

Rapid  movement  represents,  as  has  been  indicated, 
what  is  comparatively  unimportant,  light,  or  trivial  in  its 
character.  Notice,  therefore,  the  inappropriateness  of  the 
metre  used  to  express  the  thought  in  the  following : 

My  soul  is  beset 

With  grief  and  dismay  ; 
I  owe  a  vast  debt, 

And  nothing  can  pay. 

I  must  go  to  prison, 

Unless  the  dear  Lord, 
Who  died  and  is  risen, 

His  mercy  afford. 

— Guest's  History  of  English  Rhythms. 

Especially,  as  contrasted  with  the  following  expression  of 
the  same  thought : 

My  former  hopes  are  fled, 
My  terror  now  begins  ; 


46  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

I  feel  alas  !  that  I  am  dead 
In  trespasses  and  sins. 

— Idem. 

For  the  reasons  given,  metres  in  which  the  accented 
syllables  are  fewer  than  the  unaccented  ones,  are  favorites 
with  those  who  wish  to  describe  events  or  scenes  charac- 
terized by  rapidity  of  movement, — in  such  poems,  for 
instance,  as  Scott's  Lochinvar  : 

Oh,  young  Lochinvar  is  come  out  of  the  west, 
Through  all  the  wide  border  his  steed  was  the  best. 

or  Read's  Sheridan  s  Ride,  e.  g.  : 

Up  from  the  South  at  break  of  day, 
Bringing  to  Winchester  fresh  dismay, 

or  Browning's  How  They  Brought  the  Good  News  from 
Ghent,  a  poem,  which,  with  its  galloping  measures,  is 
probably  the  best  phonetic  representation  of  a  horseback 
ride  in  the  language,  equally  true  to  the  requirements  of 
discoursive  and  of  dramatic  elocution  : 

I  sprang  to  the  stirrup,  and  Joris,  and  he  ; 

I  galloped,  Dirck  galloped,  we  galloped  all  three  ; 

"  Good  speed  ! "  cried  the  watch,  as  the  gate-bolts  undrew  ; 

4 '  Speed  !  "  echoed  the  wall  to  us  galloping  through. 

Behind  shut  the  postern,  the  lights  sank  to  rest, 

And  into  the  midnight  we  galloped  abreast. 

A  metre  similar  in  effect  to  those  just  mentioned  is 
the  classic  hexameter,  used  by  Homer  and  Virgil.  In 
most  of  the  English  imitations  of  this  metre,  however, 
the  easy  flow  of  the  movement,  which,  as  readers  of  Greek 
and  Latin  know,  is  its  chief  characteristic,  fails  to  be  pro- 
duced. One  reason  for  this  is  that  our  language,  largely 
because  it  lacks  the  grammatical  terminations  of  the 
classic  tongues,  contains  fewer  short  syllables  then  they ; 
and,  in  the  place  of  the  only  foot  of  three  syllables  allowed 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  DURATION.  47 

in  their  hexameter  —  I  mean  the  dactyl,  containing  one 
long  and  two  short  syllables,  —  our  poets  often  use  long 
syllables  only,  influenced  to  do  this,  probably,  by  the 
false  theory  that  quantity  has  nothing  to  do  with  English 
metres.  Another  reason  is,  that  notwithstanding  the 
poverty  of  our  language  in  short  syllables,  many  seem  to 
think  that  the  hexameter  necessarily  requires  a  large 
number  of  them.  But  Greek  and  Latin  lines  are  frequent 
in  which  measures  containing  short  syllables  are  few, 
e.g.: 

rfr  rs  fvjpfr  nai  vocrrov  kraipoov.  —  Homer. 


_ 

Illi    inter     sese     magna     vi     brachia     tollunt.  —  Virgil. 

Both  of  these  causes  serve  to  make  our  English  hex- 
ameters slow  and  heavy.  Besides  this,  most  of  those 
who  write  them,  misled  by  the  notion  that  they  must 
crowd  as  many  syllables  as  possible  into  their  lines,  are 
tempted  to  use  too  many  words,  and  thus  to  violate  an- 
other principle  not  of  poetry  only,  but  of  rhetoric.  Take 
the  following,  for  instance,  from  Longfellow's  Children 
of  the  Lord  's  Supper  : 

Weeping  he  spake  in  these  words  :  and  now  at  the  beck  of  the  old  man, 
Knee  against  knee,  they  knitted  a  wreath  round  the  altar's  enclosure. 
Kneeling  he  read  then  the  prayers  of  the  consecration,  and  softly, 
With  him  the  children  read  ;  at  the  close,  with  tremulous  accents, 
Asked  he  the  peace  of  heaven,  a  benediction  upon  them. 

An  English  verse  representing  accurately  —  what  is  all 
that  is  worth  representing  —  the  movement  of  the  classic 
hexameter,  would  read  more  like  this,  which,  itself,  too, 
would  read  better,  did  it  contain  fewer  dactyls  ;  but  to 
show  the  possibilities  of  our  verse  these  have  been  inten- 
tionally crowded  into  it  : 


48  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Weeping  he  told  them  this,  and  they,  at  the  villager's  bidding, 

Knitting  with  knee  to  knee  a  wreath  at  the  altar's  railing, 

Knelt  as  he  softly  led  in  the  prayer  of  the  consecration. 

In  it  the  children  joined,  until  in  a  tremulous  accent 

Closing  the  prayer  he  had  asked  for  the  Lord's  benediction  upon  them. 

This  passage  from  Longfellow  is  a  typical  specimen  of 
what  is  called  English  hexameter.  Here  is  another  (not 
so  good),  from  Frothingham's  translation — in  many  re- 
spects an  admirable  one — of  Goethe's  Hermann  and  Doro- 
thea :  • 

Thitherward  up  the  new  street  as  I  hasted,  a  stout-timbered  wagon 
Drawn  by  two  oxen  I  saw,  of  that  region  the  largest  and  strongest, 
While  with  vigorous  step  a  maiden  was  walking  beside  them  ; 
And,  a  long  staff  in  her  hand,  the  two  powerful  creatures  was  guiding, 
Urging  them  now,  now  holding  them  back,  with  skill  did  she  drive  them. 

Not  until  such  lines  have  been  reduced  to  a  form  more 
like  the  following,  can  we  be  prepared  to  debate  whether 
or  not  the  effects  of  the  classic  hexameter  can  be  repro- 
duced in  English.  Those,  too,  who  choose  to  compare 
these  lines  with  the  original,  will  find  this  translation  more 
literal  than  the  last. 

Now  my  eyes,  as  I  made  my  way  along  the  new  street  there, 
Happened  to  light  on  a  cart  with  a  frame  of  the  heaviest  timber, 
Drawn  by  a  pair  of  steers  of  the  largest  breed  and  stoutest. 
By  their  side  was  a  maid,  and  with  vigorous  gait  was  walking, 
Waving  a  staff  in  her  hand,  and  guiding  the  strong  pair  onward. 
Urging  or  holding  them  in,  right  skilfully  did  she  drive  them. 

In  these  last  lines,  there  are  more  spondaic  verses, — 
verses,  that  is,  in  which  the  fifth  foot  contains  two  sylla- 
bles— than  were  often  used  in  the  classic  hexameters. 
But  this  fact  does  not  change  the  general  effect  of  the 
movement.  Matthew  Arnold  says  of  the  following,  that, 
"  it  is  the  one  version  of  any  part  of  the  Iliad  which  in 
some  degree  reproduces  for  me  the  original  effect  of 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  DURATION.  49 

Homer."     It  is  a  translation  from  the  third  book  made 
by  Dr.  Hawtrey  of  Eton  College  : 

Clearly  the  rest  I  beheld  of  the  dark-eyed  sons  of  Achaia, 

Known  to  me  well  are  the  faces  of  all  ;  their  names  I  remember. 

Two,  two  only  remain,  whom  I  see  not  among  the  commanders, — 

Castor  fleet  in  the  car, — Polydeukes  brave  with  the  cestus, — 

Own  dear  brethren  of  mine, — one  parent  loved  us  as  infants. 

Are  they  not  here  in  the  host,  from  the  shores  of  loved  Lacedaemon  ? 

Or  though  they  came  with  the  rest  in  ships  that  bound  through  the  waters, 

Dare  they  not  enter  the  fight,  or  stand  in  the  council  of  heroes, 

All  for  fear  of  the  shame, %id  the  taunts  my  crime  has  awakened  ? 

Instead  of  two  we  sometimes  find  three  consecutive 
unaccented  syllables,  combined  with  which  there  is  occa- 
sionally a  slight  but  secondary  accent  on  the  second  of 
these.  As  the  general  effect  of  this  kind  of  rhythm  is  to 
cause  four  syllables  to  be  uttered  in  the  time  usually  given 
to  two,  it  increases  the  rapidity  of  the  movement ;  e.  g.: 

The  king  has  come  to  marshal  us  in  all  his  armor  dressed, 
And  he  has  bound  a  snow-white  plume  upon  his  gallant  crest, 
He  looked  upon  his  people,  and  a  tear  was  in  his  eye  ; 
He  looked  upon  the  traitors,  and  his  glance  was  stern  and  high  ; 
Right  graciously  he  smiled  on  us,  as  rolled  from  wing  to  wing, 
Down  all  the  line  in  deafening  shout,  God  save  our  lord  the  king  ! 
******** 
"  And  if  my  standard-bearer  fall, — as  fall  full  well  he  may, 
For  never  saw  I  promise  yet  of  such  a  bloody  fray, — 
Press  where  ye  see  my  white  plume  shine  amid  the  ranks  of  war, 
And  be  your  oriflame  to-day,  the  helmet  of  Navarre." 

—  The  Battle  of  Ivry  :   Macaulay. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  FORCE. 

Force,  representing  Instinctive  Tendency  of  Utterance,  or  Physical 
Energy — Different  Kinds  of  Force — the^-^Degree  of  Force — Loud 
and  Soft  Force  as  used  in  Elocution — Their  Poetic  Analogues — Loudness 
and  Softness,  Strength  and  Weakness,  Great  and  Slight  Weight  as  rep- 
resented by  Long  or  Short  Accented  or  Unaccented  Syllables. 

/T>HE  next  rhythmical  element  of  expression  to  be 
considered,  is  force.  This  is  to  sounds  what 
different  degrees  of  light  and  shade  are  to  objects  of 
sight ;  and  is  essential  to  the  effects  of  rhythm  in  the 
same  way  that  shading  is  to  those  of  proportion.  In 
elocution,  no  one  in  feeble  physical  health  can  manifest 
an  excess  of  force,  while,  at  times,  without  it,  his  delivery 
may  be  characterized  by  the  greatest  amount  of  intelli- 
gence and  soul,  of  thought  and  the  emotion  that  is  con 
nected  with  thought.  For  these  reasons,  it  seems  right 
to  infer  that  force  represents  physique  rather  than  intellect 
or  spiritual  feeling;  in  other  words,  energy  that  is  instinc- 
tive and  connected  with  the  physical  nature  rather  than 
any  thing  that  is  reflective  and  connected  with  the  psychi- 
cal. As  used  for  emphasis,  force  differs  mainly  in  three 
regards,  which,  according  to  the  principle  of  classification 
pursued  hitherto,  may  be  stated  thus :  first,  on  its  purely 
instinctive  or  physical  side,  it  differs  in  degree — it  may  be 
loud  or  soft ;  second,  on  its  reflective  or  intellectual  side, 
it  differs  in  gradation — it  may  be  strongest  at  the  beginning, 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  FORCE.  51 

middle,  or  end  of  the  utterance  of  a  syllable  or  word ;  and 
third,  in  emotive  relations,  affected  more  or  less  by  both 
instinctive  and  reflective  influences,  it  differs  in  regularity 
— it  may  be  abrupt  or  smooth. 

Let  us  consider,  first,  the  degrees  of  force.  It  is  proba- 
bly not  necessary  to  illustrate  the  statement  that,  in 
elocution  loud  force  indicates  a  great  degree  of  energy, 
and  soft  force  a  slight  degree  of  it.  As  loud  and  soft  are 
relative  terms,  it  is  evident  that  in  poetry  their  analogues 
are  found  in  forms  in  which  the  relative  force  is  decidedly 
greater  on  certain  syllables  than  on  others ;  therefore,  in 
metres  in  which  the  accents  are  strongly  marked.  This 
condition  is  realized,  as  a  rule,  where  the  accented  syllables 
are  long,  in  quantity,  and  the  unaccented  short.  Here 
are  metres  of  this  character : 

Louder,  louder  chant  the  lay  ; 

Waken  lords  and  ladies  gay  ! 

Tell  them  youth  and  mirth  and  glee 

Run  a  course,  as  well  as  we  ; 

Time,  stern  huntsman  !  who  can  balk  ? 

Stanch  as  hound  and  fleet  as  hawk  ? 

Think  of  this  and  rise  with  day, 

Gentle  lords  and  ladies  gay  ! 

— Hunting  Song  :   Scott. 

When,  wide  in  soul  and  bold  of  tongue, 
Among  the  tents  I  paused  and  sung, 
The  distant  battle  flashed  and  rung. 

—  Two  Voices  :   Tennyson. 

Strike,  and  when  the  fight  is  over, 

If  ye  look  in  vain  for  me, 
Where  the  dead  are  lying  thickest 

Look  for  him  who  was  Dundee. 

— Burial  March  of  Dundee  :  Aytoun. 

How  firm  a  foundation,  ye  saints  of  the  Lord, 
Is  laid  for  your  faith  in  his  excellent  word  ! 

• — Hymn  :  Kirkham. 


52  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

If  both  the  accented  and  unaccented  syllables  are  short 
in  quantity,  the  movement  is  rapid,  indicating,  as  has  been 
said  before,  thought  that  is  unimportant ;  and  we  have  a 
rattling  effect,  analogous  to  loudness  that  does  not  convey 
an  impression  of  strength — e.  g.  : 

Then  we  let  off  paper  crackers,  each  of  which  contained  a  motto, 
And  she  listened  while  I  read  them,  till  her  mother  told  her  not  to. 

— Ferdinando  and  Elvira  :  Gilbert. 

Now  elderly  men  of  the  bachelor  crew, 

With  wrinkled  hose 

And  spectacled  nose, 
Don't  marry  at  all  ; — you  may  take  it  as  true, 

If  ever  you  do, 

The  step  you  will  rue, 
For  your  babes  will  be  elderly,  elderly  too. 

—  The  Precocious  Baby  :  Idem. 

"  O  maidens,"  said  Pattison,  touching  his  hat, 
"  Don't  blubber,  my  dears,  for  a  fellow  like  that ; 
Observe  I  'm  a  very  superior  man, 
A  much  better  fellow  than  Angus  McClan." 

— Ellen  Me  Jones  Aberdeen  :  Idem. 

If  both  the  accented  and  unaccented  syllables  are  long 
in  quantity,  the  movement  is  slow ,  indicating  thought  that 
is  important,  and  the  accent  is  less  decidedly  marked.  This 
gives  us  the  poetical  equivalent  for  force  characterized  by 
iveight  and  strength,  though  not  necessarily  by  loudness — 
e.  g.  : 

O  good  gray  head  which  all  men  knew  ; 

O  voice  from  which  their  omens  all  men  drew  ; 

O  iron  nerve  to  true  occasion  true  ; 

O  fall'n  at  length  that  tower  of  strength 

Which  stood  four  square  to  all  the  winds  that  blew  ! 

— Ode  on  the  Duke  of  Wellington  :    Tennyson. 

The  woods  shall  wear  their  robes  of  praise, 
The  south  winds  softly  sigh, 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  FORCE.  53 

And  sweet,  calm  days  in  golden  haze 
Melt  down  the  amber  sky. 

— My  Psalm  :    Whitticr. 

Though  hearts  brood  o'er  the  past,  our  eyes 

With  smiling  futures  glisten  ; 
For,  lo,  our  day  bursts  up  the  skies, — 

Lean  out  your  souls  and  listen. 

—  To-day  and  To-morrow  :  Gerald  Massey. 

When  the  accented  and  unaccented  syllables  are  indis- 
criminately long  and  short,  the  accent  is  least  decidedly 
marked,  and  we  have  the  poetic  equivalent  for  soft  force. 
This  may  convey  an  impression  of  strength,  if  it  con- 
tain several  long  syllables — e.  g.  : 

Never  any  more 

While  I  live, 
Need  I  hope  to  see  his  face 

As  before. 
Once  his  love  grown  chill 

Mine  may  strive, — 
Bitterly  we  re-embrace, 

Single  still, 

— In  a  Year  :  R.  Browning. 

And  so  my  silent  moan  begins  and  ends, 

No  world's  laugh  or  world's  taunt,  no  pity  of  friends 

Or  sneer  of  foes,  with  this  my  torment  blends. 

— Only  a  Woman  :  Mulock. 

But  it  must  convey  an  impression  of  weakness,  if  made 
up  mainly  of  short  syllables — e.  g.  : 

Though  not  disordinate,  yet  causeless  suffering 
The  punishment  of  dissolute  days  ;  in  fine, 
Just  or  unjust,  alike  seem  miserable, 
For  oft  alike  both  come  to  evil  end. 

— Samson  Agonistes  :  Milton. 

— Let  him  slip  down, 
Not  one  accompanying  his  declining  feet. 

—  Timon  /.,  I  :  Shakespcar. 


54  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

— Nothing  routs  us  but 
The  villany  of  our  fears. 

— Cymbeline  V.t  2  :  Idem. 

Here  are  distinctively  imitative   effects,  first,  of  loud- 
ness  : 

And  my  pulses  closed  their  gates  with  a  shock  on  my  heart,  as  I  heard 
The  shrill-edged  shriek  of  a  mother  divide  the  shuddering  night. 
******** 

And  the  vitriol  madness  flushes  up  in  the  ruffian's  head, 
Till  the  filthy  by-lane  rings  to  the  yell  of  the  trampled  wife. 

******** 

Is  it  peace  or  war  ?  better  war  !  loud  war  by  land  and  by  sea  ! 
War  with  a  hundred  battles  and  shaking  a  hundred  thrones. 

— Maud  :   Tennyson, 

And  here  of  loudness  with  more  or  less  strength  : 

On  came  the  whirlwind, — steel-gleams  broke 
Like  lightning  through  the  rolling  smoke  ; 

The  war  was  waked  anew. 
Three  hundred  cannon  mouths  roared  loud, 
And  from  their  throats,  with  flash  and  cloud, 

Their  showers  of  iron  threw. 
Beneath  their  fire  in  full  career, 
Rushed  on  the  ponderous  cuirassier ; 
The  lancer  couched  his  ruthless  spear, 
And,  hurrying  as  to  havoc  near, 

The  cohorts'  eagles  flew. 
In  one  dark  torrent,  broad  and  strong, 
The  advancing  onset  rolled  along, 
Forth  harbingered  by  fierce  acclaim, 
That  from  the  shroud  of  smoke  and  flame 
Peal'd  wildly  the  imperial  name. 

—  The  Charge  at  Waterloo  :  Scott. 

Loud  sounds  the  axe,  redoubling  strokes  on  strokes — 
On  all  sides  round  the  forest  hurls  her  oaks 
Headlong.     Deep  echoing  groan  the  thickets  brown, 
Then  rustling,  crackling,  crashing  thunder  down. 

— Iliad,  23  :  Pope. 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  FORCE.  55 

Here  of  weight  or  strength  : 

When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw, 
The  line  too  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow. 

— Essay  on  Criticism  :  Pope. 

Then  those  eight  mighty  daughters  of  the  plow 
Bent  their  broad  faces  toward  us,  and  addressed 

Their  motion. 

—  The  Princess  :  Tennyson. 

Here  of  softness  : 

And  let  some  strange  mysterious  dream 

Wave  at  his  wings  in  aery  stream, 

Of  lively  portraiture  display'd, 

Softly  on  my  eyelids  laid. 

And,  as  I  wake,  sweet  music  breathe 

Above,  about,  or  underneath, 

Sent  by  some  spirit  to  mortal's  good, 

Or  the  unseen  genius  of  the  wood. 

— II Penseroso  :  Milton. 

While  I  nodded,  nearly  napping,  suddenly  there  came  a  tapping 
As  of  some  one  gently  rapping,  rapping  at  my  chamber  door. 

—  The  Raven  :  Poe. 

Within,  the  waves  in  softer  murmurs  glide, 
And  ships  secure  without  their  haulsers  ride. 

— Odyssey,  3  :    Pope. 
There  is  sweet  music  here  that  softer  falls 

Than  petals  from  blown  roses  on  the  grass, 
Or  night  dews  on  still  waters  between  walls 
Of  shadowy  granite  in  a  gleaming  pass. 

—  The  Lotus  Eaters  :    Tennyson. 

And  here  of  weakness  : 

So  he  with  difficulty  and  labor  hard 
Moved  on  with  difficulty  and  labor  he. 

— Par.  Lost,  2  :    Milton. 
So  she  low-toned,  while  with  shut  eyes  I  lay 
Listening,  then  looked.     Pale  was  the  perfect  face  ; 
The  bosom  with  long  sighs  labored  ;  and  meek 
Seemed  the  full  lips,  and  mild  the  luminous  eyes, 
And  the  voice  trembled  and  the  hand. 

—  The  Princess  :  Tennyson. 


56  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Look  once  more  now  at  the  passage  from  weak  force 
to  strong,  as  well  as  from  fast  time  to  slow,  in  the  fol- 
lowing : 

The  cherubim  descended  ;  on  the  ground 
Gliding  meteorous,  as  evening  mist 
Ris'n  from  a  river  o'er  the  marish  glides, 
And  gathers  round  fast  at  the  laborer's  heel 
Homeward  returning.     High  in  front  advanced, 
The  brandish'd  sword  of  God  before  them  blazed, 
Fierce  as  a  comet. 

— Par.  Lost,  12  :  Milton. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

FORCE    AS    THE    SOURCE    AND    INTERPRETER    OF    POETIC 
MEASURES. 

Gradations  of  Force  or  Stress,  representing  Reflective  Influence  exerted  on 
Instinctive  Tendency — What  is  represented  by  the  Different  Kinds  of 
Elocutionary  Stress — Why  Elocutionary  Stress  corresponds  to  Poetic 
Measure — Classification  of  English  Poetic  Measures,  and  their  Classic 
Analogues — What  is  represented  by  Initial  Double  Measure — Its  Classic 
Form— By  Terminal  Double  Measure — Why  used  in  Our  Hymns — 
Its  Classic  Form — Triple  Measures  ;  Median — Its  Classic  Form — Initial 
Triple  Measure — Could  also  be  termed  Compound  Measure,  corre- 
sponding to  Compound  Stress — Its  Classic  Forms — Its  Use  in  Greek 
Pseonics — In  Pathos,  corresponding  to  Tremulous  Stress — Terminal 
Triple  Measure — Can  correspond  to  Thorough  Stress — Its  Classic 
Forms — Blending  of  Different  Triple  Measures — Of  Triple  and  Double 
Measures  to  prevent  Monotony — Quadruple  Measures,  Initial  and  Ter- 
minal— Blending  of  all  Kinds  of  Measures  to  represent  Movements. 

\\7  E  pass  on  now  to  the  next  way,  in  which  the  force  em- 
ployed in  emphasis  has  been  said  to  differ — namely, 
in  gradation,  or  what  is  technically  termed'  stress.  In  dis- 
coursive  elocution,  the  force  or  exertion  necessary  for  the 
pronunciation  of  any  given  syllable  or  word  may  be  used 
because  of  an  internal  or  an  external  motive,  or  of  a  com- 
bination of  the  two ;  in  other  words,  either  because  a  man 
desires  to  express  an  idea  for  his  own  sake ;  or  because  he 
wishes  to  impress  it  upon  others  ;  or  because  he  wishes  to  do 
both.  In  the  first  case,  the  sound  bursts  forth  explosively, 
as  if  the  speaker  were  conscious  of  nothing  but  his  own 


58  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

vocal  organs  to  prevent  the  accomplishment  of  his  object ; 
and  the  loudest  part  of  the  sound  is  on  the  first  part  of 
the  utterance.  This  is  the  most  instinctive,  and,  in  this 
sense,  physical,  form  of  stress.  In  the  second  case,  the 
sound  is  pushed  forth  expulsively,  as  if  the  man  were 
conscious  of  an  outside  possibility  of  opposition,  and  of  the 
necessity  of  pressing  his  point ;  and  the  loudest  sound  is 
at  the  end  of  the  utterance.  This  is  a  deliberative  stress, 
force  given  with  a  design  ;  and,  in  this  sense,  is  reflective 
and  intellectual.  In  the  third  case,  the  sound  is  uttered 
so  that  it  blends  the  effects  of  both  the  other  methods, 
either  as  in  the  effusive  median  stress,  or  in  the 
ways  indicated  in  the  descriptions  given  below  of  com- 
pound, thorough,  and  tremulous  stress.  In  dramatic 
elocution,  of  course,  these  same  methods  would  represent 
things  having  a  bursting  or  pushing  sound  or  tendency, 
or  both  of  these  together. 

These  two  methods  of  applying  energy  to  articulation, 
and  different  combinations  of  them,  give  us  the  different 
kinds  of  stress :  termed,  if  the  chief  force  is  used  at  the 
beginning  of  the  accented  utterance,  Initial,  indicated 
thus  >,  and  used  in  this : 

Up,  comrades,  up  ! — in  Rokeby's  halls 
Ne'er  be  it  said  our  courage  falls  ! 

If  at  its  end,  Terminal,  <,  and  used  in  this : 

Let  the  consequences  be  what  they  may,  I  am  determined  to  proceed. 

If  in  its  middle,  Median,  <>,  and  used  in  this: 

O  joy  to  the  people  and  joy  to  the  throne. 

If  at  both  its  beginning  and  end,  Compound,  X,  and  used 
in  this : 

Ye  blocks,  ye  stones,  ye  worse  than  senseless  things. 


FORCE.  59 

If  at  its  beginning,  middle,  and  end,  with  strong  force, 
Ttwrough  X£>  and  used  in  this  : 

Lend,  lend  your  wings,  I  mount,  I  fly. 
O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 

If  at  all  three,  with  weak  force,  Tremulous  v~y  and  used 
in  this : 

Pity  the  sorrows  of  a  poor  old  man. 

It  may  be  difficult  for  those  not  acquainted  with  elocu- 
tion to  detect  at  once  what  is  meant  by  stress  ;  but  it  will 
become  clearer  as  we  proceed.  The  first  important  thing 
for  us  to  notice  in  connection  with  it,  is  that,  though 
given  mainly  on  the  accented  syllable,  it  is  often,  es- 
pecially in  flexible  voices,  communicated  to  more  than 
one  syllable.  In  the  following,  for  instance,  the  same  kind 
of  compound  stress  is  used  on  the  one  syllable  in  hard  and 
on  the  two  syllables  in  cruel,  and  might  be  used  on  the 
three  syllables  in  a  word  like  villanous,  were  it  substituted 
for  cruel. 

X  >      < 

O  ye  hard  hearts,  ye  cru-e/men  of  Rome. 

So  it  is  with  other  kinds  of  stress.  The  three  syllables 
in  misery  might  receive  the  same  gradations  in  force  as 
the  one  in  woe.  It  is  owing  to  this  fact  with  reference  to 
force  that  analogies,  important  though  subtle,  may  be  de- 
tected between  different  kinds  of  stress  and  different  kinds 
of  poetic  measure.  An  accent,  as  has  been  noticed,  falls  on 
every  second,  third,  or  fourth  syllable  of  a  verse,  and  the 
number  of  accents  in  a  line  determines  the  number 
of  feet  or  measures  in  it,  a  foot  being  composed  of  one 
accented  syllable  and,  as  the  case  may  be,  of  one,  two, 
or  three  unaccented  syllables.  Below,  separated  by  bars, 
will  be  found  all  the  principal  kinds  of  feet.  A  mo- 


6<D  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

ment's  glance  at  them  will  detect  that  the  character  of 
each  measure  is  determined  by  the  place  in  it,  whether  its 
beginning,  its  middle,  or  its  end,  on  which  the  accent  falls. 
In  the  same  way,  the  character  of  any  given  kind  of  stress 
is  determined  by  the  place  in  the  utterance,  whether  com- 
posed of  one  or  of  more  syllables,  on  which  the  chief  force 
falls.  In  other  words,  poetic  accent  influences  syllables 
grouped  in  feet  or  measures,  precisely  as  elocutionary 
stress  influences  syllables  grouped  in  words.  For  this 
reason,  the  measures  in  the  paragraph  below  are  named 
according  to  the  analogy  between  the  places  in  them  on 
which  the  accents  fall,  and  the  places  in  words  made  most 
prominent  by  the  different  kinds  of  stress.  The  Greek 
names  for  corresponding  measures  are  also  given. 

Initial  measure,  or  initial  double  measure,  is  determined 
by  what  may  be  called  initial  accent,  and  corresponds,  if 
composed  of  one  long  syllable  followed  by  one  short,  to 
the  Greek  trochee  or  choree ;  if  of  two  long,  to  the  Greek 
spondee  ;  e.  g.  : 

Tell  me  |  n6t  in  |  mournful  |  numbers, 

Terminal  measure,  or  terminal  double  measure,  is  de- 
termined by  what  may  be  called  terminal  accent,  and 
corresponds  to  the  Greek  iambus,  composed  of  one  short 
followed  by  one  long  syllable  ;  e.  g.  : 

The  train  |  from  out  |  the  cas  |  tie  drew. 

Initial  triple  measure  is  usually  the  same  as  the  Greek 
dactyl. 

Over  the  |  r6adways  and  |  6n  through  the  |  villages. 

Median,  or  median  triple  measure,  is  usually  the  same  as 
the  Greek  amphibrach  ;  e.  g.  : 

There  came  to  |  the  beach  a  |  poor  exile  |  of  ifcrin. 


FORCE.  6 1 

Terminal  triple  measure  is  usually  the  same  as  the  Greek 
anapaest ;  e.  g.  : 

O'er  the  land  |  of  the  free  |  and  the  h6me  |  of  the  brave. 

Compound  triple  measure  is  the  same  as  the  Greek 
amphimacrus,  or  as  feet  used  in  certain  of  the  paeonic 
stanzas. 

Nearer  my  |  G6d  to  thee  |  £'en  though  It  |  be  a  cr6ss. 

Diinitial  quadruple  measure  is  usually  the  same  as  the 
Greek  ditrochee,  with  a  primary  accent  on  every  first, 
and  a  secondary  on  every  third  syllable  ;  e.  g.  : 

Roses  are  in  |  b!6ssom  and  the  |  rills  are  filled  with  |  water-cresses. 

Diterminal  quadruple  measure  is  usually  the  same  as  the 
Greek  diiambus,  with  a  primary  accent  on  every  second ; 
and  a  secondary  on  every  fourth  syllable  ;  e.  g.  : 

The  king  has  come  |  to  marshal  us, 

Quadruple  measures  might  have  their  primary  accent  on 
their  third  or  fourth  syllable,  i.  e.,  on  their  final  double 
foot,  and  be  termed,  therefore,  Final  diinitial  or  Final 
diterminal ;  or  they  might  be  Compound,  having  an  initial 
and  terminal  foot,  and  be  termed,  to  indicate  the  foot 
coming  first,  Initial-terminal  or  Terminal-initial.  I  can 
recall,  however,  no  English  measures  of  these  kinds. 

Now  let  us  see  what  ideas  each  of  these  measures,  ac- 
cording to  elocutionary  analogy,  is  fitted  to  represent. 
We  will  begin  with  Initial  stress,  called  radical  also.  As 
has  been  said,  this  characterizes  utterances  that  burst  forth 
abruptly  with  their  loudest  sound  at  their  beginning,  as  in 
the  sentence,  "Go  on,  I  say;  get  along;  I  tell  you  I  '11 
not  wait  for  you  ;  move  on."  In  fulfilment  of  the  princi- 
ples stated  above,  this  stress  is  used  when  one  seems  to  be 


62  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

conscious  of  nothing  but  his  own  organs  to  prevent  the 
expression  of  his  ideas,  and  when  therefore  his  main  wish 
is  to  express  himself  so  as  to  be  distinctly  understood.  In 
its  milder  form,  it  serves  to  render  articulation  clear  and 
utterance  precise ;  in  its  stronger  form,  it  indicates  great 
physical  momentum,  and  therefore  bold,  and  sometimes 
vehement  assurance,  positiveness,  and  dictation. 

Bearing  in  mind  now  what  has  been  shown  before,  that 
the  important  places  in  a  line  of  verse  are  its  beginning, 
before  which,  and  its  end,  after  which,  the  voice  of  the 
reader  naturally  pauses,  it  may  be  said,  that  whenever 
lines  containing  feet  of  two  syllables  begin  or  end  with  a 
foot,  the  first  syllable  of  which  is  accented,  the  emphasis 
characterizing  the  verse  is  the  same  in  general  tendency  as 
when  single  words  receive  initial  stress.  It  is  possible,  for 
instance,  to  read  the  following  with  any  kind  of  elocu- 
tionary stress ;  but  the  arrangement  of  accented  and  un- 
accented syllables  is  such,  that,  when  read  without  design, 
one  naturally  gives  to  each  foot  the  kind  of  emphasis 
characterizing  initial  stress.  We  may  call  this,  therefore, 
the  measure  of  initial  accent  or  Initial  measure.  Here  is 
an  example  of  its  milder  form,  representing,  like  initial 
stress,  clearness  and  precision  of  statement : 

Take  the  open  air,  the  more  you  take  the  better  ; 

Follow  nature's  laws  to  the  very  letter. 

Let  the  doctors  go  to  the  Bay  of  Biscay, 

Let  alone  the  gin,  the  brandy,  and  the  whiskey. 

— Advice  :  Anon. 

Go  where  glory  waits  thee, 

But  when  fame  elates  thee,  etc. — 

— Go  Where,  etc.  :  Moore. 

Should  you  ask  me,  whence  these  stories, 
Whence  these  legends  and  traditions, 


MEANINGS  OF   THE  METRES.  63 

With  the  odors  of  the  forest, 
With  the  dew  and  damp  of  meadows, 
With  the  curling  smoke  of  wigwams, 
With  the  rushing  of  great  rivers. 
With  their  frequent  repetitions, 
And  their  wild  reverberations 
As  of  thunder  in  the  mountains  ? 
I  should  answer,  I  should  tell  you, 
"  From  the  forests  and  the  prairies." 

— Hiawatha  :  Longfellow. 

Then  with  deep  sonorous  clangor, 
Calmly  answering  their  sweet  anger, 
When  the  wrangling  bells  had  ended, 
Slowly  struck  the  clock  eleven, 
And  from  out  the  silent  heaven, 
Silence  on  the  town  descended. 

— Carillon  :  Longfellow. 

And  this  is  the  stronger  form,  representing  bold  assur- 
ance, positiveness,  and  dictation  : 

Honor,  riches,  marriage,  blessing, 
Long  continuance  and  increasing, 
Hourly  joys  be  still  upon  you  ! 
Juno  sings  her  blessings  on  you. 

—  Tempest ',  iv.t  I  :   Shakespear. 

Shake  the  casements, 

Break  the  painted 

Panes  that  flame  with  gold  and  crimson  ; 

Scatter  them  like  leaves  of  autumn. 

— Golden  Legend  :  Longfellow. 

As  has  been  said,  this  metre  existed  among  the  Greeks 
in  two  principal  forms.  The  first  was  composed  of  one 
long  syllable  followed  by  a  short,  and  called  Trochee  from 
>,  to  run,  or  rpo^o?,  a  wheel,  and  also  Choree  from 
,  belonging  to  a  chorus  or  dance.  These  terms  in 
themselves  signify  little.  They  might  be  applied  to  many 
other  movements.  But  Schmidt,  emerging  for  a  moment 


64  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

from  the  too  frequent  lack  of  endeavor  to  interpret  the 
meanings  of  metres,  which  characterizes  the  voluminous 
literature  on  this  subject,  tells  us,  in  his  "  Rhythmic  and 
Metric  of  the  Classic  Languages,"  that  it  is  "  a  somewhat 
vivacious  measure,  serving  for  the  expression  of  individual 
feeling,"  and  this  is  all  he  says  ;  but  the  correspondence 
between  this,  and  saying,  as  has  just  been  done  here,  that 
the  metre  has  an  internal  motive  and  represents  assurance, 
positiveness,  and  dictation,  will  be  recognized  by  all.  The 
other  Greek  form  of  this  metre  was  the  Spondee,  so  called 
from  anovdai,  the  drink-offerings,  and  was  used  in  religious 
hymns,  like  this,  for  instance,  to  Helios  by  Dionysius  : 


yrj  nal  rtovro's  xal  nvoiai. 

This  is  simply  initial  measure  to  which  has  been  add- 
ed the  effect  of  predominating  long  quantity  on  unac- 
cented syllables.  The  spondaic  hymn  would  sound  some- 
thing like  the  following,  which  is  an  attempt  to  reproduce 
the  effect  of  the  Latin  original  : 

DIES  IRJE,    DIES  ILLA. 
Day  of  wrath,  that  day  of  burning, 
All  shall  melt  to  ashes  turning, 
All  foretold  by  seers  discerning. 
*  *  *  * 

All  aghast  then,  Death  shall  shiver, 
And  great  Nature's  frame  shall  quiver, 
When  the  graves  their  dead  deliver. 

—  Translated  by  A.  Colts. 

The  limited  number  of  final  syllables  in  our  language 
which  can  end  effectively  lines  of  this  kind,  as  well  as  the 
positive  assurance  expressed  by  them,  sometimes  passing, 
as  in  the  Dies  Ires  above,  into  almost  fatalistic  acquiescence, 
gives  initial  measure  little  popularity  with  our  own  hymn 


MEANINGS  OF   THE  METRES.  65 

writers.  A  few  instances,  indeed,  can  be  cited  of  the  use 
of  a  similar  measure,  but  almost  always  in  connection 
with  occasional  terminal  measures,  as  in  this ;  e.  g.  : 

Glorious  things  of  thee  are  spoken, 

Zion,  city  of  our  God. 
He  whose  word  can  not  be  broken, 

Formed  thee  for  his  own  abode. 

— Newton. 

All  of  our  Long,  Common,  and  Short  Metre  hymns, 
however,  are  written  entirely  in  terminal  measures.  And 
this  is  what  we  should  expect,  for  these  measures  them- 
selves, as  well  as  their  tunes,  to  which  I  shall  refer  by-and- 
bye,  express  the  effort  of  the  soul  as  it  reaches  forth  with 
a  pushing  persistence  and  determination  toward  that  which 
is  beyond  itself,  which  means  in  the  case  of  religious 
thought,  aspiration, — a  feeling  especially  in  harmony  with 
the  spirit  of  the  modern  church. 

The  second  kind  of  stress,  called  Terminal,  and  also 
Final  and  Vanishing,  is  applied  when  an  utterance  begins 
softly,  and  gradually  increases  in  force,  till  it  ends  with  its 
loudest  sound.  It  seems  to  be  used,  as  has  been  said, 
when  one  is  conscious  of  outside  opposition,  obliging 
him  to  press  his  point,  and  so  when  his  main  wish  is  to 
impress  his  thoughts  upon  others.  Its  milder  form  may 
indicate  merely  complaint  or  peevishness,  demanding  con- 
sideration, as  when  the  child  whines  out,  "  I  sha'  n't  ";  its 
stronger  form  indicates  energy  used  with  an  intelligent 
design,  and  so  a  pushing  pertinacity,  persistence,  or  deter- 
mination, in  view  of  what  is  either  liked  or  disliked,  as 
in  the  exclamation,  used  either  in  banter  or  contempt, 
"Aha !  "  or  in  the  sentences,  "  I  am  determined  to  remain 
true  to  my  cause,"  "  I  despise  the  man." 

The  arrangement  of  accented  and  unaccented  syllables 


66  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

analogous  to  this  is  found  evidently,  for  reasons  similar  to 
those  already  given,  in  a  line  containing  feet  of  two 
syllables,  that  begins  or  ends  with  a  foot,  the  first  syllable 
of  which  is  unaccented.  We  may  call  the  following, 
therefore,  Terminal  measure.  Here  is  its  milder  form, 
representing  complaint  demanding  consideration : 

0  let  the  solid  ground 
Not  fail  beneath  my  feet, 

Before  my  life  has  found 

What  some  have  found  so  sweet. 

— Maud  :    Tennyson, 

Alas  !  I  have  nor  hope  nor  health, 
Nor  peace  within  nor  calm  around, 
Nor  that  content  surpassing  wealth 
The  sage  in  meditation  found, 
And  walked  with  inward  glory  crowned. 

—  The  Sun  is  Warm  :  Shelley. 

Here  is  its  stronger  form,  representing  earnest  persist- 
ence, determination  : 

If  that  the  world  and  love  were  young, 
And  truth  in  every  shepherd's  tongue, 
These  pretty  pleasures  might  me  move 
To  live  with  thee  and  be  thy  love. 

— Nymph's  Reply  :  Raleigh. 

1  cannot  hide  that  some  have  striven, 
Achieving  calm  to  whom  was  given 
The  joy  that  mixes  man  with  heaven  ; 

Who  rowing  hard  against  the  stream, 
Saw  distant  gates  of  Eden  gleam, 
And  did  not  dream  it  was  a  dream. 

—  Two  Voices:   Tennyson. 

Think  not,  thou  eagle  Lord  of  Rome, 

And  master  of  the  world, 
Though  victory's  banner  o'er  thy  dome 

In  triumph  now  is  furled, 


MEANINGS  OF   THE  METRES.  6/ 

I  would  address  thce  as  thy  slave, 
But  as  the  bold  should  greet  the  brave. 

— Caractacus  :  Bernard  Barton. 

As  applied  to  spiritual  relations,  this  pushing  earnest- 
ness of  terminal  measure  properly  represents,  as  was  said 
a  moment  ago,  aspiration.  Hence  the  use  of  the  metre  in 
most  of  our  popular  hymns ;  e.  g.  : 

Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow. 
My  soul,  be  on  thy  guard. 

The  Greek  measure  corresponding  to  this,  was  the 
Iambic,  a  term  supposed  to  have  been  derived  from 
iaatro  to  drive  forth,  shoot,  assail.  Prof.  Jebb,  in  his 
"  Greek  Literature,"  says  it  "  was  first  used  "  (as  in  the  case 
of  the  aha  /  cited  above), "  in  raillery,  which  entered  into  the 
worship  of  Demeter  as  into  a  modern  carnival."  "  It  was 
the  form  in  which  the  more  intense  and  original  spirits 
loved  to  utter  their  scorn,  or  their  deeper  thought  and 
emotion."  It  "was  fitted  to  express  any  pointed 
thought."  This  explanation  of  its  uses  evidently  cor- 
responds with  that  which  has  just  been  said  of  it  here, 
viz. :  that  it  represents  an  external  aim,  and  is  indicative 
oipetulancy,  push,  persistence,  determination,  and  in  certain 
cases  of  aspiration.  Schmidt  endeavors  to  identify  this 
metre  with  the  Trochaic,  because  in  this,  as  in  that,  every 
other  syllable  is  accented.  Of  course,  the  rhythmical 
movements  of  both  metres  are  the  same,  except  at  the 
beginnings  and  ends  of  lines.  But,  unfortunately  for 
Schmidt's  theory,  these  two  places  in  the  line  give  it  its 
whole  character,  and  a  difference  in  them  necessitates  a 
difference  in  the  ideas  which  the  lines  represent,  and  this 
not  only  in  their  metres,  but  also,  as  we  shall  find,  by-and- 
bye,  in  their  tunes.  The  two  metres,  therefore,  should  not 
be  identified. 


68  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Let  us  pass  on  now  to  triple  measures.  When  con, 
sidering  duration,  it  was  noticed  that,  as  contrasted  with 
double  measures,  the  triple  give  to  the  movement  the 
effect  of  greater  rapidity,  inasmuch  as  the  time  usually 
allotted  to  two  syllables  is  in  them  allotted  to  three.  It 
is  important  to  notice  here,  in  addition  to  this,  that  in  the 
degree  in  which  the  accented  syllable  in  triple  measures 
is  rendered  emphatic,  there  is  a  tendency  to  give  it  the 
same  time  as  that  given  to  the  two  unaccented  syllables 
in  the  same  foot,  and  thus,  by  way  of  contrast,  to  thrust 
it  into  greater  prominence.  Accordingly,  initial  and 
terminal  accents  in  triple  measure  are  stronger  forms  of 
the  same  in  double  measure.  They  convey,  too,  an  added 
effect  of  rapidity,  representing,  therefore,  more  drift  and 
momentum  in  the  general  thought  expressed  in  the 
passage.  But  in  triple  measure  there  is  also  a  middle 
syllable  in  the  foot,  which  syllable,  as  well  as  the  one 
before  it  or  after  it,  can  be  emphasized.  This  fact 
gives  rise  to  a  measure  of  a  new  kind,  which,  as  it  influ- 
ences somewhat  both  of  the  other  kinds  of  triple 
measure,  needs  to  be  considered  before  them. 

The  accent  given  on  the  middle  of  the  foot  corresponds 
to  what  elocutionists  term  Median  stress,  in  which  the 
voice  swells  out  on  the  middle  of  an  utterance,  as  in  read- 
ing the  line :  "  O  joy  to  the  people  and  joy  to  the 
throne."  Median  stress  begins  like  terminal,  indicating, 
like  it  a  reflective  motive, — a  desire  to  impress  one's 
thought  on  others ;  and  ends  like  initial,  indicating  an 
instinctive  motive, — a  desire  to  express  one's  thought  for 
its  own  sake.  The  two  forms  together  seem  to  indi- 
cate, therefore,  any  thing  that  is  felt  to  be  worth  the 
attention  both  of  others  and  of  one's  self.  It  is  accordingly 
the  natural  expression  for  emotion  or  for  eloquence  of 


MEANINGS  OF   THE  METRES.  69 

thought,  for  any  thing  deemed  to  be  intrinsically  attrac- 
tive and  interesting  whether  because  beautiful  or  pathetic. 
Notice  how  graceful  is  the  general  effect  of  this  kind  of 
verse : 

There  is  a  green  island  in  lone  Gougaune  Barra, 

Where  Allua  of  songs  rushes  forth  as  an  arrow  ; 

In  deep  valleyed  Desmond — a  thousand  wild  fountains 

Come  down  to  that  lake  from  their  home  in  the  mountains. 

High  sons  of  the  lyre,  O  how  proud  was  the  feeling, 

To  think  while  alone  through  that  solitude  stealing, 

Though  loftier  minstrels  green  Erin  could  number, 

I  only  awoke  your  wild  harp  from  its  slumber, 

And  mingled  once  more  with  the  voice  of  those  fountains 

The  songs  even  Echo  forgot  on  her  mountains. 

— Gougaune  Barra  :  J.  J.  Callanan. 

"  What  makes  you  be  shoving  and  moving  your  stool  on, 
And  singing  all  wrong  the  old  song  of  *  The  Coolun'  ?  " 
There  's  a  form  at  the  casement, — the  form  of  her  true  love, — 
And  he  whispers  with  face  bent  :  "  I  'm  waiting  for  you,  love  ; 
Get  up  on  the  stool,  through  the  lattice  step  lightly, 
We  '11  rove  in  the  grove  while  the  moon  's  shining  brightly." 

—  The  Spinning-  Wheel  Song  :  J.  F.  Waller. 

Median  measures  are  frequently  changed    to  terminal 
measures  at  the  ends  of  the  lines  ;  e.  g.  : 

How  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  childhood, 
When  fond  recollection  presents  them  to  view. 

The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep-tangled  wildwood, 
And  every  loved  spot  which  my  infancy  knew. 

Old  Oaken  Bucket :  S.   Woodworth. 

In  slumbers  of  midnight  the  sailor  boy  lay, 

His  hammock  swung  loose  to  the  sport  of  the  wind  : 

But  watch-worn  and  weary  his  cares  flew  away, 
And  visions  of  happiness  danced  o'er  his  mind. 

—  The  Sailor  Boy's  Dream  :  Dimond. 

Society,  friendship,  and  love, 
Divinely  bestowed  upon  man. 


70  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

O  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove, 

How  soon  would  I  taste  you  again  ! 

—Selkirk  :  Cowper. 

The  following  are  terminal  triple  measures,  but  owing  to 
the  fact  that  there  is  no  break  in  the  regularity  of  the 
metre  after  the  pause  at  the  end  of  each  line,  their  effect 
is  about  the  same  as  that  of  median  triple  measures : 

For  the  moon  never  beams  without  bringing  me  dreams 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee, 
And  the  stars  never  rise  but  I  feel  the  bright  eyes 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee. 
And  so  all  the  night-tide  I  lie  down  by  the  side 
Of  my  darling,  my  darling,  my  life  and  my  bride, 

In  the  sepulchre  there  by  the  sea, 

In  her  tomb  by  the  sounding  sea. 

— Annabel  Lee  :  Poe. 

The  Greek  metre  corresponding  to  median  is  the  Amphi- 
brach, from  a^cpi,  on  both  sides,  and  fipaxv^?  short.  Scholars 
usually  treat  it  as  a  form  of  the  anapaest  or  terminal  triple 
measure,  and  as  significant  of  the  same  mental  tendency. 
As  the  last  two  quotations  have  shown,  these  two  measures 
are  often  used  interchangeably,  and,  when  we  come  to 
treat  of  terminal  triple  measure,  we  shall  find  that  there 
is  a  reason  why  this  should  be  so.  Any  further  considera- 
tion, therefore,  of  what  the  measure  represents  may  better 
be  deferred  until  then. 

In  uttering  measures  termed  Initial  Triple,  of  which 
examples  are  given  below,  it  will  be  noticed  that  there  is  a 
natural  tendency  to  use  more  emphasis  with  the  second 
than  with  the  first  of  the  unaccented  syllables,  producing 
therefore  a  stronger  tone  at  the  end  as  well  as  at  the 
beginning  of  the  measure.  In  this  respect  a  foot  thus  ac- 
cented corresponds  in  effect  to  what  elocutionists  term 
Compound  stress :  and  for  this  reason  might  be  termed 


MEANINGS  OF   THE  METRES.  J\ 

Compound  measure.  Compound  stress  characterizes  an 
utterance  the  first  and  last  parts  of  which  receive  more 
force  than  its  middle.  It  may  be  used  for  a  strong  form  of 
initial  stress,  especially  where  there  are  long  slides,  the 
beginnings  and  ends  of  which  need  to  be  brought  out 
with  distinctness,  as  in  the  word  now  in  the  question  : 
"  What  will  you  do  now  ?  "  or  it  may  be  used,  as  its  form 
(X)  suggests,  especially  with  abrupt  irregular  rhythm,  for 
a  combination  of  the  ideas  expressed  by  initial  and  termi- 
nal stress — i.  e.,  for  assured,  positive,  and  dictating  earnest- 
ness, persistence,  and  determination,  as  in  these  words  that 
are  italicised. 

"  You  blocks,  you  stones,  you  worse  than  senseless  things." 

Here  are  examples  of  the  poetic  equivalent  for  this 
kind  of  stress,  indicating  persistence  or  determination. 
They  introduce  occasionally  an  initial  double  measure ; 
*•  &  • 

Come  away,  come  away,  hark  to  the  summons  ; 
Come  in  your  war  array,  gentles  and  commons, 
****** 

Come  as  the  winds  come  when  forests  are  rended , 
Come  as  the  waves  come  when  navies  are  stranded  ; 
Faster,  come  faster,  come  faster  and  faster, 
Chief,  vassal,  page  and  groom,  tenant  and  master. 

— Gathering  Song  of  Donald  the  Black  :  Scott. 

Flashed  all  their  sabres  bare, 
Flashed  as  they  turned  in  air, 
Sabring  the  gunners  there, 
Charging  an  army  while 

All  the  world  wondered  : 
Plunged  in  the  battery-smoke 
Right  through  the  line  they  broke  ; 

Cossack  and  Russian 
Reeled  from  the  sabre-stroke. 

— Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade  •  Tennyson, 


72  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Several  Greek  measures  correspond  to  this,  chiefly  per- 
haps the  Dactyl  from  danTvXo?,  a  finger,  which,  like  the 
measure,  consists  of  three  members,  divided  at  the  joints 
into  one  long  and  two  short  parts.  Schmidt  tells  us  that 
this  "  was  used  (especially  in  choric  poetry)  to  denote 
an  exalted  God-trusting  state  of  mind,  or  to  express  warn- 
ings with  solemn  earnestness  " — both  of  which  uses  could 
evidently  be  made  of  a  metre  representing  the  ideas  just 
attributed  to  this.  The  measure  corresponds  also  to 
Schmidt's  representation  of  the  paeonic,  which  with  some 
quadruple  feet  derived  its  main  effect  from  feet  contain- 
ing a  long  syllable  followed  by  a  short  and  a  long.  This, 
as  will  be  noticed,  is  more  nearly  analogous  to  Compound 
stress  than  is  the  dactyl.  But  in  English  both  measures 
would  be  read  in  nearly  the  same  way,  and  would  always 
be  used  interchangeably.  The  pseonic  measure,  according 
to  Schmidt,  indicated  "overwhelming  enthusiasm''  as  well 
as  another  state  to  be  spoken  of  in  a  moment.  Of  course, 
the  "  enthusiasm  "  here  mentioned  can  very  properly  be 
classed  as  a  manifestation  of  the  highest  degree  of  assur- 
ance and  positiveness,  which  have  been  said  to  characterize 
this  metre.  The  other  state  of  feeling  which  Schmidt 
says  that  this  metre  sometimes  represents,  is  apparently 
just  the  opposite  of  enthusiasm — i.  e.,  "  uncertainty,  waver- 
ing, and  helplessness."  We  find  an  exact  parallel  to  this 
conflicting  use  of  the  Greek  paeonics  in  the  employment  of 
initial  triple  measure  in  such  a  poem  as  Hood's  Bridge  of 
Sighs;  e.g.: 

Touch  her  not  scornfully, 
Think  of  her  mournfully, 

Gently,  and  humanly. 
Not  of  the  stains  of  her, 
All  that  remains  of  her 

Now  is  pure  womanly. 


MEANINGS  OF   THE  METRES.  73 

Make  no  deep  scrutiny 
Into  her  mutiny, 

Rash  and  undutiful ; 
Past  all  dishonor, 
Death  has  left  on  her 

Only  the  beautiful. 

And  in  Browning's  Evelyn  Hope  ;  e.  g.  : 

Beautiful  Evelyn  Hope  is  dead. 

Sit  and  watch  by  her  side  an  hour. 
That  is  her  book-shelf, — this  her  bed  ; 

She  plucked  that  piece  of  geranium-flower 
Beginning  to  die  too  in  the  glass. 

The  pathetic  effect  here  may  be  owing  to  the  blending 
of  the  spirit  of  assurance, — as  if  a  man  would  say :  "  I  know 
all  about  it ;  I  am  making  no  mistake," — with  the  sad 
nature  of  the  facts  represented ;  or,  possibly,  the  pathos 
may  be  owing  to  the  uncertain  effect  of  the  metre,  when 
read,  as  it  would  be  in  such  a  poem,  without  strongly 
marked  accents.  In  this  case,  the  immediate  proximity 
of  two  syllables  like  not  and  scorn  and  her  and  mourny 
both  of  them  apparently  accented,  yet  not  both  able  to 
receive  a  strong  accent,  would  of  themselves  suggest  un- 
certainty, and  make  this  kind  of  metre  analogous  to  the 
trembling  tone  produced  by  the  elocutionist's  Tremulous 
stress.  This  is  a  form  of  stress,  too,  which,  like  the 
Greek  paeonics,  may  be  used  both  for  great  grief  and  for 
great  joy — for  any  thing,  in  fact,  showing  that  a  man  has 
not  complete  mastery  over  himself.  Hence  the  appropri- 
ateness of  the  metre  in  the  following — 

Though  like  a  wanderer, 

Daylight  all  gone, 
Darkness  be  over  me, 

My  rest  a  stone, 
Yet  in  my  dreams  I  'd  be 


74  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee. 

— Hymn  :  S.  F.  Adams. 

and  also  in  this  verse  of  the  same  hymn,  where  the  assured 
earnestness  and  persistence  or,  what  is  the  same  thing, 
the  aspiration,  is  represented  in  effects  that  blend  those  of 
tremulous  and  thorough  stress  : 

Or  if  on  joyful  wing 

Cleaving  the  sky, 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars  forgot, 

Upward  I  fly, 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee. 

— Idem. 

Not  a  little  of  the  success  of  a  hymn  like  this,  or  of  any 
poem,  depends  on  the  happy  choice — usually  made,  of 
course,  unconsciously — of  a  metre  for  it. 

As  was  shown  in  the  examples  quoted  under  median 
measure,  Terminal  Triple  Measure,  is  often  used  inter- 
changeably with  median,  which  is  thus  more  closely  allied 
to  it  than  to  initial  measure ;  in  fact,  the  terminal  accent, 
in  this  measure,  can  be  regarded  as  a  strong  form  of 
median.  In  this  regard,  these  terminal  effects  resemble 
those  of  what  elocutionists  term  Thorough  stress,  which, 
though  sometimes  described  as  a  combination  of  initial, 
median,  and  terminal  stress,  has  in  it  much  more  of  the 
latter  two  than  of  the  former — /.  e.,  it  indicates  both  the 
subjective  feeling  of  the  median  in  view  of  that  which  is 
intrinsically  eloquent,  beautiful,  and  sublime,  and  also  the 
objective  persistence  and  push  of  the  terminal,  therefore 
rapture,  triumph,  vehemence,  etc.  Here  are  examples  of 
terminal  accent  in  triple  measures : 


MEANINGS  OF  THE  METRES.  ?$ 

Now  it  catches  the  gleam  of  the  morning's  first  beam  ; 
In  full  glory  reflected  now  shines  on  the  stream  ; 
'T  is  the  star-spangled  banner.     Oh,  long  may  il  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

— Star- Spangled  Banner  :  Key. 

Now  there  's  peace  on  the  shore,  now  there  's  calm  on  the  sea, 
Fill  a  glass  to  the  heroes  whose  swords  kept  us  free, 
Right  descendants  of  Wallace,  Montrose,  and  Dundee. 

—  The  Broad- Swords  of  Scotland:  Lockhart. 

Over  hill,  over  dale, 

Thorough  bush,  thorough  brier, 
Over  park,  over  pale, 

Thorough  flood,  thorough  fire. 

— Midntmmer  Night's  Dream,  ii.,  i  :  Shakespcar. 

The  Greek  measure  corresponding  to  this  is  the  Ana- 
paest, from  avanaia),  to  strike  back.  This,  as  Schmidt 
says,  is  "  the  proper  march  measure,"  used  "  in  the  march 
songs  (in  particular  those  of  the  Spartans),  of  which  frag- 
ments have  been  preserved.  The  chorus  in  tragedy  also 
generally  entered  the  orchestra  (in  the  parodus)  and  left 
it  (in  the  exodus)  while  reciting  anapaests,  the  recitation 
in  both  cases  being  in  a  chanting  tone."  This  use  of  the 
anapaest  would  correspond  exactly  with  that  appropriate 
for  our  terminal  triple  measure,  as  just  interpreted. 

In  order  to  prevent  monotony,  as  well  as  too  great 
rapidity  of  movement,  all  kinds  of  triple  measure  are 
usually  combined  with  double  measure,  initial  triple,  for 
instance,  with  initial  double,  as  in  the  following : 

Under  my  window,  under  my  window, 
All  in  the  midsummer  weather. 

—  Under  my  Window:   T.  West-wood. 

Work  and  pure  slumbers  shall  wait  on  thy  pillow  ; 
Work  thou  shalt  ride  o'er  Care's  coming  billow  : 
Lie  not  down  'neath  Woe's  weeping  willow. 

—  To  Labor  is  to  Pray  :  F.  S.  Osgood. 


76  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

This  combination  is  that  which  is  found  in  the  classic 
hexameter ;  e.  g.  : 

Hearty  and  hale  was  he,  an  oak  that  is  covered  with  snow-flakes  ; 
White  as  the  snow  were  his  locks,  and   his  cheeks  as  brown   as   the  oak- 
leaves.  — Evangeline  :  Longfellow. 

Terminal  triple  measure  is  usually  joined  with  terminal 
double  ;  e.  g.  : 

With  fingers  weary  and  worn, 
With  eyelids  heavy  and  red. 

—Song  of  the  Shirt  :  Hood. 

Let  them  sing  who  may  of  the  battle  fray, 
And  the  deeds  that  have  long  since  passed. 

The  Good  Old  Plough  :  Anon. 

And  median  triple  measure  is  used  sometimes  with 
initial  double  ;  e.  g.  : 

Glen  Orchy's  proud  mountains,  Coalchurn  and  her  towers, 
Glenstrae  and  Glenlyon  no  longer  are  ours  : 
We  're  landless,  landless,  landless,  Grigalach. 
Landless,  landless,  landless. 

— Macgregor's  Gathering  :  Scott. 

But  it  is  used  more  frequently  with  terminal  double 
measure ;  e.  g.  : 

I  wield  the  flail  of  the  lashing  hail, 
And  whiten  the  green  plains  under  ; 

And  then  again  I  dissolve  it  in  rain  j 
And  laugh  as  I  pass  in  thunder. 

— -  The  Cloud  :   Shelley. 

In  some  compositions  all  forms,  both  of  double  and 
triple  measure,  are  combined,  the  only  essential  consid- 
eration in  the  mind  of  the  poet  being  to  arrange  the 
accents  so  that,  when  read,  they  can  be  separated  by  like 
intervals ;  e.  g.  : 


MEANINGS  OF   THE  METRES.  77 

Day  after  day,  day  after  day, 
We  stuck,  not  land  nor  motion, 
As  idle  as  a  painted  ship 
Upon  a  painted  ocean. 

Water,  water  everywhere, 
And  all  the  boards  did  shrink  ; 
Water,  water  everywhere, 
Nor  any  a  drop  to  drink. 

****** 
I  closed  my  lids  and  kept  them  close, 
And  the  balls  like  pulses  beat ; 
For  the  sky  and  the  sea,  and  the  sea  and  the  sky 
Lay  like  a  load  on  my  weary  eye, 
And  the  dead  were  at  my  feet. 

—  The  Ancient  Mariner  :  Coleridge. 

Quadruple  measure  is  made  up  of  two  feet  of  double 
measure,  one  of  the  accented  syllables  of  which  receives 
more  stress  than  the  other.  Here,  for  instance,  is  the 
Ditrochaic  measure  of  the  Greeks,  or  what  may  be 
termed  Diinitial  Quadruple  measure.  In  it  there  are  two 
trochaic  feet. 

Roses  are  in  |  b!6ssom,  and  the  |  rills  are  filled  with  |  water-cresses. 

— Anon. 

And  here  is  the  Greek  Diiambic  measure,  in  which  there 
are  two  iambic  feet.  It  may  be  called  Diterminal  Quad- 
ruple measure. 

The  king  has  come  j  to  marshal  us  j  in  all  his  ar  |  mor  dressed, 

-Battle  of  Ivry  :  Macaulay. 

The  first  of  these  is  evidently  an  example  of  initial 
accent,  and  the  second  of  terminal  accent,  and  each  must 
indicate  the  same  as  in  double  measure,  with  the  excep- 
tion .that  in  quadruple  measure  the  movement  is  more 
rapid,  and  represents,  therefore,  more  buoyancy  and  mo- 
mentum in  the  thought. 


78  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

If  necessary,  a  distinction  might  be  drawn  between 
these  two  forms  of  Quadruple  measure  and  those  forms 
of  it  in  which  the  primary  accent  belongs  to  the  second 
of  its  two  Double  measures.  The  following,  for  instance, 
is  usually  considered  to  be  an  example  of  Initial  Double 
measure.  But  it  might  be  divided  into  feet  like  these, 
and  termed  Final  Diinitial  Quadruple  measure,  because  the 
primary  accent  belongs  to  the  final  double  foot  constituting 
the  Quadruple  measure : 

We  the  fairies  |  blithe  and  antic, 
Of  dimensions  not  gigantic  ; 
Though  the  moonshine  mostly  keep  us, 
Oft  in  orchards  frisk  and  peep  us. 

— Fairies1  Song  :   Thomas  Randolph. 

Trans,  by  Leigh  Hunt. 

And  this,  for  similar  reasons,  might  be  termed  Final 
Diterminal  Quadruple  measure : 

Domestic  bliss  |  has  proved  my  bane 

A  harder  case  you  never  heard, 
My  wife  (in  other  matters  sane) 

Pretends  that  I  'm  a  Dicky-bird  ! 

— Bains  Carew  :  Gilbert. 

In  such  cases,  however,  it  is  better  to  attribute  the 
greater  prominence  given  to  certain  of  the  accented  sylla- 
bles, not  to  the  supposed  fact  that  the  lines  containing 
them  are  composed  in  Quadruple  measure,  instead  of — as 
seems  to  be  the  case — in  Double  measure  ;  but  to  the 
effects,  considered  in  Chapter  Fourth,  of  short  quantity 
which  increases  the  rapidity  of  the  movement,  and  of  the 
pauses  in  the  middle  and  at  the  end  of  each  line  which 
increase  the  emphasis  of  the  accented  syllables  imme- 
diately preceding  them.  If  we  call  the  measures  that  we 
have  just  examined  Quadruple,  what  is  to  prevent  our 
supposing  that  verses,  written  in  triple  measure  like  the 


MEANINGS  OF   THE  METRES.  79 

following,  contain  feet  composed    of    four,  or  even    six, 
syllables  ? 

Guvener  B.  |  is  a  sensible  man  ; 

He  stays  to  his  home  |  an'  looks  arter  his  folks. 

—  The  Biglow  Papers  :  Lowell. 

We  have  seen  now  that  all  the  different  kinds  of  elocu 
tionary  stress  have  correspondences  in  poetic  measures. 
It  remains  to  be  said  that,  just  as  different  kinds  of  stress 
may  be  used  in  reading  different  parts  of  the  same  sen- 
tence, so  different  kinds  of  measures  may  be  used  in  the 
same  verse,  either  for  the  sake  of  variety,  or  to  give 
peculiar  emphasis  to  some  word  or  syllable  thus  thrust 
into  unusual  and  unexpected  importance. 

Here  terminal  accent  is  used  for  initial,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  a  line : 

Hears  amid  the  chime  and  singing 
The  bells  of  his  own  village  ringing. 

— Carillon  :  Longfellow* 

And  here  at  the  end  of  a  line  : 

Silence  on  the  town  descended, 
Silence,  silence  everywhere. 

—Idem. 

Here  initial  accent  is  used  for  terminal,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  a  line,  and  also  at  its  end : 

Blaze  with  your  serried  columns, 
I  will  not  bend  the  knee. 

—  The  Seminolis  Defiance  :  G.   W.  Patten. 

And  here  at  its  end  : 

O  sacred  head  now  wounded, 
With  grief  and  shame  weighed  down. 
— Hymn  :  Bernard  through  Gerhardt  tr.  by  J.  W.  Alexander. 


8O  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

In  the  following,  with  the  variety  that  is  common  in 
triple  measure,  we  have  initial  accent  in  Sunbeam ;  ter- 
minal, in  From  cape;  median,  in  The  mountains;  initial 
triple,  in  Over  a;  and  terminal  tripple,  in  with  a  bridge, 
etc. 

From  cape  to  cape  with  a  bridge-like  shape, 

Over  a  torrent  sea, 
Sunbeam-proof,  I  hang  like  a  roof, 

The  mountains  its  columns  be. 

—  The  Cloud:  Shelley. 

Corresponding  to  the  methods  of  dramatic  elocution, 
changes  in  measure  are  often  made  in  order  to  represent 
the  movements  of  certain  objects  described.  Notice,  in 
the  following  terminal  double  measures,  how  the  placing 
of  the  accent  on  the  first  syllable  of  many  of  the  feet, 
serves,  by  changing  them  into  initial  triple  measures,  to 
convey  the  impression  of  rapidity : 

Each  creek  and  bay 

With  fry  innumerable  swarm,  and  shoals 
Of  fish  that  with  their  fins  and  shining  scales 
Glide  under  the  green  wave,  in  sculls  that  oft 
Bank  the  mid  sea  ;  part  single  or  with  mate, 
Graze  the  sea-weed \  their  pasture,  and  through  groves 
Of  coral  stray,  or  sporting  with  quick  glance 
Show  to  the  sun  their  wav'd  coats  dropt  with  gold. 

— Paradise  Lost,  7:  Milton. 

Notice  here,  too,  the  words  italicized :  • 

Far  along 

From  peak  to  peak,  the  rattling  crags  among, 
Leaps  the  live  thunder.     Not  from  one  lone  cloud, 
But  every  mountain  now  hath  found  a  tongue. 

— Childe  Harold  :  Byron. 

And  the  representation  of  the  movement  of  the  leaf, 
when  the  poet  comes  to  speak  of  it,  in  the  following : 


MEANINGS  OF  THE  METRES.  8 1 

Is  it  the  wind  that  moaneth  bleak? 

There  is  not  wind  enough  in  the  air 

To  move  away  the  ringlet  curl 

From  the  lovely  lady's  cheek, — 

There  is  not  wind  enough  to  twirl 

The  one  red  leaf,  the  last  of  its  clan, 

That  dances  as  often  as  dance  it  can, 

Hanging  so  light,  and  hanging  so  high, 

On  the  topmost  twig  that  looks  up  at  the  sky. 

— Christabel :  Coleridge. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  REGULARITY  OF  FORCE. 

Regularity  of  Force,  combining  its  Instinctive  with  Reflective  Tendencies, 
and  representing  Emotive  Influence — Abrupt  and  Smooth  Force,  as 
used  in  Elocution — Irregular  and  Regular  Accentuation  corresponding 
to  them  in  Poetry — Abruptness  in  Short  and  Long  Lines — Imitative 
Effects,  etc. 

HP  HIS  subject  of  changes  in  metre  introduces  us,  natu- 
rally, to  the  third  way  in  which  force  on  different 
words  may  differ — namely,  in  regularity.  It  may  be  abrupt 
or  smooth,  each  respectively  representing  the  amount  of 
mere  instinct  or  of  reflection  in  the  emotion  accompanying 
the  momentum.  Abrupt  force  indicates  interruption,  excite- 
ment, vehemence,  anger;  smooth  force  continuity,  satisfac- 
tion, gentleness,  delight.  The  poetic  equivalent  for  the  first 
seems  to  be  found  in  lines  in  which  there  is  a  break  in  the 
regularity  of  the  rhythm,  either  because  two  accented  syl- 
lables are  brought  together,  or  a  larger  number  of  unac- 
cented ones  than  the  rhythm  warrants.  For  instance,  we 
must  all  perceive  the  abrupt  effects  produced  by  the  first 
syllables  of  Battering,  and  belching,  and  by  the  word  Far 
in  the  following,  coming,  respectively,  as  they  do,  imme- 
diately after  the  accented  words,  sob,  wide,  and  flame : 

I  will  not  cease  to  grasp  the  hope  I  hold 
Of  samtdom,  and  to  clamor,  mourn,  and  sob, 
Battering  the  gates  of  heaven  with  storms  of  prayer. 

— St.  Simeon  Stylites  :   Tennyson. 


REGULARITY  OF  FORCE.  83 

The  gates  that  now 

Stood  open  wide,  belching  outrageous  flame 
Far  into  chaos.  — Paradise  Lost,  10  :  Milton. 

Notice,  too,  the  abrupt  effects  occasioned  by  the  three 
unaccented  syllables  Are  the  in-,  and  the  two  With  im-,  in 
the  following : 

I  '11  cavil  on  the  ninth  part  of  a  hair. 

Are  the  zwdentures  drawn  ?  shall  we  be  gone  ? 

— I  Henry  IV.,  iii.,  I  :  Shakespear. 

On  a  sudden  open  fly, 
With  wwpetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sound 
Th'  infernal  doors. 

— Paradise  Lost,  2  :  Milton. 

Abruptness  is  sometimes  characteristic  of  the  entire 
metre  of  a  poem.  In  these  cases,  it  is  usually  produced 
in  connection  with  the  pauses  between  the  lines.  At  times 
it  results  from  ending  one  line  with  an  accented  syllable, 
and  beginning  the  next  with  another,  as  in  these : 

Every  day  brings  a  ship, 
Every  ship  brings  a  word  ; 
Well  for  those  who  have  no  fear, 
Looking  seaward  well  assured 
That  the  word  the  vessel  brings 
Is  the  word  they  wish  to  hear. 

— Letters  :  Emerson. 

Here  let  us  sport, 
Boys,  as  we  sit. 
Laughter  and  wit 
Flashing  so  free. 
Life  is  but  short  ; 
When  we  are  gone, 
Let  them  sing  on 
Round  the  old  tree. 

—  The  Mahogany  Tree  :    Thackeray. 


84  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Forward  the  light  brigade  ! 
Was  there  a  man  dismayed  ? 
Not  though  the  soldiers  knew 

Some  one  had  blundered  ; 
Theirs  not  to  make  reply, 
Theirs  not  to  reason  why. 
Theirs  but  to  do  and  die. 
Into  the  valley  of  death 

Rode  the  six  hundred. 

— Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade  :   Tennyson. 

Lo,  the  leader  in  these  glorious  wars 
Now  to  glorious  burial  slowly  borne, 
Followed  by  the  brave  of  other  lands. 
He  on  whom  from  both  her  open  hands 
Lavish  honor  showered  all  her  stars. 

— Ode  on  the  Duke  of  Wellington  :   Tennyson. 

Up  the  street  came  the  rebel  tread, 
Stonewall  Jackson  riding  ahead. 

Under  his  slouched  hat,  left  and  right 
He  glanced  :  the  old  flag  met  his  sight. 

"  Halt  !  " — the  dust-brown  ranks  stood  fast. 
"  Fire  ! " — out  blazed  the  rifle  blast. 

— Barbara  Frietchie  :    Whittier. 

At  times,  this  abrupt  effect  is  produced  by  ending  a 
line  with  an  unaccented  syllable  and  beginning  the  next 
with  another  one,  e.  g.  : 

As  she  lay  on  her  death-bed, 

The  bones  of  her  thin  face,  boys, 

As  she  lay  on  her  death-bed, 
I  don't  know  how  it  be,  boys, 

When  all  's  done  and  said  ; 

But  I  see  her  looking  at  me,  boys, 

Wherever  I  turn  my  head. 

—  Tommy  'j  Dead  :  Dobell. 

The  fountains  mingle  with  the  river, 
And  the  rivers  with  the  ocean  ; 


REGULARITY  OF  FORCE.  8$ 

The  winds  of  heaven  mix  forever 
With  a  sweet  emotion. 

—Love's  Philosophy:  Shelley. 

With  deep  affection 
And  recollection 
I  often  think  of 

Those  Shandon  bells  ; 
Whose  sound  so  wild  would, 
In  the  days  of  childhood, 
Fling  round  my  cradle 

Their  magic  spells. 

—  The  Bells  of  Shandon  :  F.  Mahony. 

They  lock  them  up  and  veil  and  guard  them  daily  ; 

They  scarcely  can  behold  their  male  relations  ; 
So  that  their  moments  do  not  pass  so  gaily 

As  is  supposed  the  case  with  northern  nations. 

— Beppo  :  Byron. 

As  characteristic  abruptness  in  verse  is  produced  in 
connection  with  the  pauses  at  the  ends  of  the  lines,  the 
shorter  the  lines  are,  the  more  frequent  are  the  instances 
of  abrupt  force,  and  the  more  do  the  verses  seem  to  mani- 
fest the  sort  of  nervous  energy  which  this  represents. 
Compare  the  quotations  above  in  which  the  lines  are  long 
with  those  in  which  they  are  short ;  or  compare  the  two 
following  stanzas : 

Where  corpse-light 

Dances  bright, 

Be  it  by  day  or  night, 

Be  it  by  light  or  dark, 

There  shall  corpse  lie  stiff  and  stark. 

—Halcro's  Verses  in  The  Pirate  :  Scott. 

Not  in  vain  the  distance  beacons,  Forward,  forward  let  us  range, 
Let  the  old  world  spin  forever  down  the  ringing  grooves  of  change. 

-Locksley  Hall :   Tennyson. 

This  latter  couplet  has  almost  the  effect  of  perfect  reg- 
ularity of  rhythm,  which,  as  has  been  said,  characterizes 


86  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

metre  corresponding  to  smooth  force,  representing  there- 
fore continuity,  satisfaction,  gentleness,  delight,  such,  for 
instance,  as  one  would  naturally  have  in  the  tender,  lovely, 
beautiful,  grand,  or  sublime.  In  all  the  following  quota- 
tions it  will  be  noticed  that  the  final  syllable  of  each  line 
joins  without  a  break  the  rhythm  of  the  following  line. 
They  all  furnish  illustrations  of  the  poetic  equivalent  for 
smooth  force. 

From  gold  to  gray 

Our  mild  sweet  day 

Of  Indian  summer  fades  too  soon  ; 

But  tenderly 

Above  the  sea 

Hangs  white  and  clear  the  hunter's  moon. 

— Eve  of  Election  :    Whittier. 

When  gathering  clouds  around  I  view, 
And  days  are  dark  and  friends  are  few, 
On  Him  I  lean  who  not  in  vain 
Experienced  every  human  pain. 

— Hymn  :  Grant. 

Till  their  chimes  in  sweet  collision 
Mingled  with  each  wandering  vision, 
Mingled  with  the  fortune-telling 
Gypsy  bands  of  dreams  and  fancies, 
Which,  amid  the  waste  expanses 
Of  the  silent  land  of  trances, 
Have  their  solitary  dwelling. 

— Carillon  :  Longfellow. 

My  eyes,  how  I  love  you, 
You  sweet  little  dove  you, 
There  's  no  one  above  you, 
Most  beautiful  Kitty. 

— Kitty  :  Anon. 

At  Paris  it  was,  at  the  opera  there, 

And  she  looked  like  a  queen  in  a  book  that  night, 

With  a  wreath  of  pearl  in  her  raven  hair, 
And  the  brooch  on  her  breast  so  bright. 

— Aux  Italic ns  :  Lytton. 


REGULARITY  OF  FORCE.  8/ 

Our  bugles  sang  truce,  for  the  night  cloud  had  lowered, 
And  the  sentinal  stars  set  their  watch  in  the  sky, 

And  thousands  had  sunk  on  the  ground  overpowered, 
The  weary  to  sleep  and  the  wounded  to  die. 

—  The  Soldier's  Dream  :  Campbell. 

Here  is  the  same  in  our  regular  English  blank  verse : 

So  all  day  long  the  noise  of  battle  rolled 
Among  the  mountains  by  the  winter  sea, 
Until  King  Arthur's  table,  man  by  man, 
Had  fallen  in  Lyonesse  about  their  lord. 

—  The  Idyls  of  the  King  :    Tennyson. 

Abrupt  and  smooth  poetic  effects,  corresponding  to 
those  of  imitative  elocution,  have  been  noticed  often,  and 
scarcely  need  mention  here.  The  following  are  abrupt : 

The  pilgrim  oft 

At  dead  of  night  'mid  his  oraison  hears 
Aghast  the  voice  of  time-disparted  towers, 
Tumbeling  all  precipitate  down — dash'd 
Rattling  around,  loud  thundering  to  the  moon. 

—  The  Ruins  of  Rome  :  Dyer. 

Then  broke  the  whole  night  in  one  blow, 
Thundering  ;  then  all  hell  with  one  throe 
Heaved,  and  brought  forth  beneath  the  stroke 
Death,  and  all  dead  things  moved  and  woke. 

— Epilogue  :  Swinburne. 

On  a  sudden  open  fly. 
With  impetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sound, 
The  infernal  doors,  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thunder. 

— Paradise  Lost,  2  :  Milton. 

And  these  are  smooth : 

Heaven  open'd  wide 

Her  ever-during  gates,  harmonious  sound, 

On  golden  hinges  moving. 

— Idem,  7. 


88  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Folio w'd  with  acclamation,  and  the  sound 
Symphonious  of  ten  thousand  harps  that  tuned 
Angelic  harmonies  ;  the  earth,  the  air 
Resounded. 

—Idem,  7. 

Collecting,  projecting, 
Receding  and  speeding, 
And  shocking  and  rocking, 
And  darting  and  parting. 

****** 
Dividing  and  gliding  and  sliding, 
And  falling  and  brawling  and  sprawling, 
And  diving  and  riving  and  striving, 
And  sprinkling  and  twinkling  and  wrinkling. 

****** 

Retreating  and  beating  and  meeting  and  sheeting, 
Delaying  and  straying  and  playing  and  spraying. 

****** 
And  so  never  ending,  but  always  descending, 
Sounds  and  motions  for  ever  and  ever  are  blending, 
All  at  once,  and  all  o'er  with  a  mighty  uproar, 
And  this  way  the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore. 

The  Cataract  of  Lodore  :  Southey. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ELOCUTIONARY   AND    POETIC    PITCH — TUNES    OF  VERSE. 

Elements  entering  into  the  Tunes  of  Verse  :  Pitch  and  Quality — Pitch  repre- 
senting Reflective  Tendency  or  Intellectual  Motive — On  its  Instinctive 
Side  by  High  and  Low  Key — What  each  represents — On  its  Reflective, 
by  Rising,  Falling,  and  Circumflex  Movements — What  each  represents 
— When  Influences  from  both  Sides  express  Emotive  Tendencies,  by 
Melody — What  Different  Melodies  represent — Pitch  as  used  in  Poetry — 
Which  was  formerly  chanted — And  has  Tunes  at  Present — Shades  of 
Pitch  in  Speech  as  Numerous  as,  and  more  Delicate  than,  in  Song — 
v Scientific  Proof  that  Short  Vowels  are  sounded  on  a  High  Key,  and 
^  Long  on  a  Low  Key — Light,  Gay,  Lively  Ideas  represented  by  the 
Former ;  Serious,  Grave,  Dignified  by  the  Latter. 

\\T E  are  to  take  up,  now,  the  elements  of  elocutionary 
expression  which  enter  into  the  effects  of  what  are 
termed  the  tunes  of  verse.  The  first  of  these  elements  is  pitch. 
This  word  means  the  same  in  elocution  as  in  music,  and 
indicates  that  the  consecutive  sounds  of  speech  are  related 
to  one  another  in  a  way  analogous  to  that  in  which,  in 
singing,  they  move  up  and  down  the  musical  scale.  A 
whole  passage  may  be  delivered  on  what  is  termed  a  high 
pitch  or  key,  as  when  one  is  shouting  to  a  person  at  a 
distance  ;  or  it  may  be  delivered  on  a  low  one,  as  when 
one  is  groaning.  Besides  this,  in  uttering  a  whole  pass- 
age, or  a  single  syllable  with  what  is  termed  an  inflec- 
tion, it  is  possible  for  the  voice  to  rise,  as  is  said,  from 
a  low  to  a  high  pitch,  or  to  fall  from  a  high  to  a  low 
one. 


90  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

It  is  important  to  notice,  also,  that,  in  giving  different 
degrees  of  pitch,  it  is  not  essential  to  manifest  much 
either  of  physical  energy  or  of  those  instinctive  modes 
of  psychical  emotive  expression  most  allied  to  it.  A 
hand-organ,  in  which  every  note  is  sounded  with  the 
same  force  and  quality,  can  nevertheless  illustrate  degrees 
of  pitch  so  far  as  concerns  this  alone.  But  though 
neither  physical  energy  nor  psychical  emotion  is  repre- 
sented by  pitch,  we  find  that  every  man,  in  talking,  directs 
his  voice  first  to  one  key  and  then  to  another  ;  and  that, 
by  so  doing,  he  represents  to  us  the  general  tenor  of  his 
reflections.  Intelligence  of  these,  therefore,  is  communi- 
cated by  pitch ;  and,  usually,  too,  very  definite  intelligence 
of  them.  What  a  man  wishes  to  have  his  tones  commu- 
municate,  we  can  often  infer  by  overhearing  them,  even 
amid  circumstances  rendering  it  impossible  for  us  to  dis- 
tinguish clearly  his  words.  Often,  indeed,  his  words  may 
mean  one  thing,  and  his  intonations  another,  as  when  a 
teacher  tells  the  parents  of  a  boy  in  his  school  that  their 
son  is  "  doing  very  well,"  at  the  same  time  using  a  very 
decided  rising  inflection  on  the  word  "  well." 

It  seems  proper  to  say,  therefore,  that,  in  the  main,  pitch 
is  that  part  of  the  generally  emotive  language  of  the  in- 
tonations which  is  most  reflective,  representing  what  may 
be  termed,  distinctively,  the  mental  movements,  or — 
what  underlie  these — the  mental  motives  or  aims.  Thus 
the  rising  pitch  on  the  word  "well,"  as  just  quoted,  indi- 
cates the  speaker's  motive  in  what  he  says.  As  affected 
by  instinctive  or  physical  tendencies,  in  the  degree  in  which 
the  predominance  of  reflective  influences  is  least,  the  tones 
are  kept  on  a  high  level  of  pitch,/or  on  a  "  high  key" ;  but 
as  reflective  influences  become  stronger,  the  tones  are  kept 
on  a  lower  level  of  pitch,  or  on  a  "  low  key."  In  their 


ELOCUTIONARY  INFLECTIONS.  91 

strictly  reflective  or  intellectual  phases,  the  motives  cause 
the  pitch  to  "  rise  "  or  "  fall  "  in  accordance  with  the  ten- 
dency or  direction  of  the  ideas, — and  this  mainly  in  the 
inflections.  The  balance  maintained  between  the  in- 
stinctive and  the  reflective  tendencies — that  is,  between 
the  different  kinds  of  keys  and  of  the  "  rising  "  and  "  fall- 
ing "  movements,  determines  the  melody,  and  represents, 
of  course,  the  tendency  in  one  or  the  other  direction  of 
the  psychic  nature. 

Considering  pitch,  first,  as  influenced  by  the  instinctive 
nature,  it  has  been  noticed  that  when  a  man  is  light- 
hearted,  carrying  the  least  amount  of  thought,  either  in 
quantity  or  quality, — in  other  words,  when  there  is  noth- 
ing to  weigh  him  down,  and  that  which  is  moving  him 
is  light,  gay,  and  lively  in  its  character,  he  uses  high  pitch, 
as  in  uttering  this  : 

O,  then  I  see  Queen  Mab  has  been  with  you. 

— Romeo  and  Juliet,  i.,  4  :   Shakespear. 

But  if,  on  the  contrary,  his  reflective  nature  is  in  opera- 
tion to  such  an  extent  and  with  such  subjects  that  he 
does  feel  weighed  down,  as  is  the  case  when  that  which  is 
moving  him  is  serious,  grave,  and  dignified  in  its  character, 
calling  for  more  or  less  expression  of  soul  from  him,  he 
uses  low  pitch,  and  keeps  his  voice  on  it,  as  in  this : 

Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean,  roll. 

— Childe  Harold  :  Byron. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that,  as  related  to  these 
two  extremes,  words  conveying  intelligence  of  merely 
ordinary  matters,  would  be  uttered  at  a  medium  pitch, 
somewhere  between  the  two.  It  is  equally  evident  that 
in  dramatic  elocution  a  high  key  imitates  sounds  that  are 
high,  as  in  the  cry,  "  Yell !  yell !  why  don't  you !  "  ;  and  a 


92  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

low  key  imitates  sounds  that  are  low,  as  in  saying,  "  Who  's 
there  ?  he  growled." 

In  discoursive  elocution,  again,  the  rising  and  falling 
movements  of  the  voice,  whether  used  in  continuous 
passages  or  in  the  inflections  given  to  single  words,  repre- 
sent, as  has  been  said,  the  direction  or  tendency  of  the 
current  of  ideas  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker.  To  extend 
and  explain  this,  they  represent  \ht  flowing  or  checking  of 
his  motives  as  influenced  by  the  instinctive  or  reflective 
operations  of  his  mind.  The  rising  movement  opens, 
and,  if  an  inflection,  emphatically  opens,  the  channel  of 
thought,  as  if  to  speed  its  current  forward.  Those  listen- 
ing to  it  feel,  therefore,  that  the  speaker  has  not  yet 
arrived  at  a  word,  or  completed  an  idea,  upon  which  he 
wishes  them  very  particularly  to  reflect.  This  movement 
produces,  therefore,  an  anticipative  or  indecisive  effect, 
and  indicates  what,  as  compared  with  the  falling  move- 
ment, is  subordinate,  negative,  or  questionable.  The  down- 
ward movement  closes,  and,  if  an  inflection,  emphatically 
checks,  the  current  of  thought,  points  out  to  the  audience 
that  which  has  been  said,  leads  them  to  reflect  upon  it, 
and  so  produces  a  conclusive,  decisive  effect,  and  indicates 
what  is  comparatively  important,  positive,  or  affirmative. 
Besides  this,  there  is  often,  on  the  same  passage  or  syl- 
lable, a  movement  both  upward  and  downward,  or  what, 
if  on  a  single  word,  is  termed  a  circumflex  inflection. 
This,  of  course,  imparts  something  of  the  effects  of  both 
the  rising  and  falling  movements,  though  often,  especially 
in  the  inflections,  in  accordance  with  the  principle  of  con- 
trast, it  is  chiefly  employed  to  give  increased  effect  to  the 
rising  or  falling  movement  of  the  voice  with  which  the  cir- 
cumflex ends,  the  end  of  this  inflection  being  that  which 
indicates  its  main  significance. 


ELOCUTIONARY  INFLECTIONS.  93 

To  recognize  the  accuracy  of  these  explanations  of  the 
meanings  of  the  inflections,  we  have  only  to  notice  how 
the  significance  of  the  following  sentences  is  changed  upon 
our  uttering  them  with  a  rising  (')  or  falling  Q  or  with  a 
circumflex  inflection,  ending  with  a  rising  (u)or  a  falling 
(A)movement. 

If  so  I  will  go.  If  so  I  will  g6. 

It  must  be  so.  It  must  be  so. 

It  depends.  It  depends. 

John  declaims  well.  John  declaims  well. 

Of  course  it  is.  Of  course  it  Is. 

You  are  not  to  do  that.  You  are  n6t  to  do  that. 

Is  n't  she  beautiful  ?  Is  n't  she  beautiful  ? 

YSu — you  meant  no  harm.  You — you  meant  no  harm. 

Sidney  Lanier,  in  his  "  Science  of  English  Verse,"  has 
directed  attention,  as  had  been  done  before,  to  the  way 
in  which  this  truth,  with  reference  to  the  different  mean- 
ings that  may  be  conveyed  by  the  simple  movements  of 
the  voice,  wholly  aside  from  the  words  used,  is  brought 
out  by  Shakespear  in  his  All 's  Well  that  Ends  Well, 
where  he  makes  the  clown  declare : 

I  have  an  answer  will  serve  all  men. 

Countess. — Marry  ;  that 's  a  bountiful  answer,  that  fits  all  questions. 
********* 

Clown. — From  below  your  duke  to  beneath  your  constable  ;  it  will  fit  any 
question. 

Countess. — It  must  be  an  answer  of  most  monstrous  size,  that  must  fit  all 
demands. 

Clown. — But  a  trifle,  neither,  in  good  faith,  if  the  learned  should  speak 
truth  of  it.  Here  it  is,  and  all  that  belongs  to  't  .  .  .  Ask  me  if  I  am 
a  courtier.  .  .  . 

Count. — I  pray  you,  sir,  are  you  a  courtier  ? 

Clown. — O  Lord,  sir, — there  's  a  simple  putting  off, — more,  more,  a  hun- 
dred of  them. 

Count. — Sir,  I  am  a  poor  friend  of  yours,  that  loves  you. 

Clown. — O  Lord,  sir, — thick,  thick,  spare  not  me. 


94  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Count. — I  think,  sir,  you  can  eat  none  of  this  homely  meat. 
Clown. — O  Lord,  sir, — nay,  put  me  to  't,  I  warrant  you. 
Count. — You  were  lately  whipped,  sir,  as  I  think. 
Clown. — O  Lord,  sir, — spare  not  me. 

******* 

Count. — I  play  the  noble  housewife  with  the  time 

To  entertain  it  so  merrily  with  a  Fool. 
Clown. — O  Lord,  sir, — why  there  't  serves  well  again. 

—All's  Well  that  Ends  Well,  ii.,  2. 

In  dramatic  elocution,  rising,  falling,  or  circumflex 
movements  of  the  voice,  simply  imitate  things  with 
which  movements  or  sounds  of  these  kinds  are  in  some 
way  associated.  The  following,  for  instance,  require 
movements  of  the  voice  in  both  directions : 

He  saw  a  crowd  assembled  round 
A  person  dancing  on  the  ground, 
Who  straight  began  to  leap  and  bound 

With  all  his  might  and  main. 
To  see  that  dancing  man  he  stopped, 
Who  twirled  and  wriggled,  skipped  and  hopped, 
Then  down  incontinently  dropped. 

And  then  sprang  up  again. 

—  The  Bishop  of  Rum-ti-Foo  :  Gilbert* 

But  the  babe  with  a  dig  that  would  startle  an  ox, 

With  his  "  C'ck  !  Oh,  my  !— 

Go  along  wiz  'oo,  fie  !  " 
Would  exclain  :  "  I  'm  affaid  'oo  a  shocking  ole  fox." 

Now  a  father  it  shocks, 

And  it  whitens  his  locks, 
When  his  little  babe  calls  him  a  shocking  old  fox. 

— Precocious  Baby  :  Gilbert. 

As  has  been  said,  the  blending  of  the  effects  of  high 
and  low  key  with  those  of  the  rising  and  falling  of  phrases 
and  syllables,  leads  to  what  is  termed  melody,  the  general 
character  of  which  represents  the  mental  motive  as  influ- 


TUNES  OF   VERSE.  95 

enced  by  the  soul,  or  the  higher  emotive  nature.  If  the 
key  be  greatly  varied,  therefore,  it  represents  a  'minimum 
of  self-control  or  poise  ;  if  slightly  varied  or  monotonous,  a 
maximum  of  this, — statements  which  will  be  sufficiently 
illustrated  while  we  go  on  to  apply,  as  we  shall  now  do, 
all  these  elocutionary  principles  of  pitch  to  the  subject 
immediately  before  us. 

Probably  few  have  noticed  to  what  an  extent  pitch  en- 
ters as  a  factor  into  the  effects  of  poetry.  They  know  in  a 
general  way,  of  course,  that  in  early  modes  of  communi- 
cating thought,  intonations,  like  gestures,  were  almost  as 
significant  as  words ;  but  they  do  not  realize  that  the 
same  is  true  in  our  own  day,  least  of  all  that  changes 
in  pitch  are  and  always  must  be  elements  entering  into 
the  significance  of  the  effects  produced  by  poetic  rhythm. 
They  know,  again,  if  at  all  acquainted  with  the  history  of 
the  art,  that  there  was  a  time  when  poetry  was  associated 
with  both  dancing  and  music.  It  was  so,  as  we  are  told, 
in  the  time  of  King  David,  who,  on  one  occasion,  at  least, 
danced  as  well  as  sang  his  psalms  before  the  ark.  In 
Greece,  not  only  lyric  but  dramatic  poetry  was  chanted, 
and  often  accompanied  by  the  lyre.  As  late  as  the  six- 
teenth century,  declamation  accompanied  by  music, 
flourished  in  England  and  in  Italy.  In  the  latter  country 
it  then  passed  into  the  opera,  which  did  not  follow,  as 
some  suppose,  but  preceded  all  that  is  noteworthy  in  the 
development  of  the  pure  music,  unaccompanied  by  words, 
of  modern  times.  In  our  own  day,  however,  when  poetry  is 
merely  read,  the  movements  of  the  waltz,  the  polka,  the 
sonata,  the  symphony,  seem  to  belong  to  an  art  so  differ- 
ent, that  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  that  it  was  once  ap- 
propriate to  speak  of  ballad  poetry,  because  the  Italian 
ballare  meant  to  dance,  or  of  a  sonnet,  because  the  lute 


90  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

was  sounded  while  poetry  was  being  chanted.  The  truth 
is,  however,  that  even  to-day,  also,  poetry  and  music  are 
allied.  As  has  been  said  already,  the  chanting  of  verse 
was  not  originally  the  cause  of  its  tunes,  but  the  result  of 
them,  springing  from  an  endeavor  to  develop  artistically 
the  tunes  natural  to  speech.  These  tunes  our  poetry, 
notwithstanding  its  present  separation  from  music,  still 
retains.  They  differ  from  those  of  music,  yet  are  analo- 
gous to  them.  Let  us  consider  the  more  important  of 
the  resemblances  and  differences  between  the  two. 

As  most  of  us  know,  science  has  ascertained  that  all 
musical  sounds  result  from  regularly  recurring  vibrations 
caused  by  cords,  pipes,  reeds,  or  other  agencies.  About 
thirty-three  of  these  vibrations  per  second  produce  the  low- 
est tone  used  in  music,  and  about  three  thousand  nine 
hundred  and  sixty,  the  highest.  That  the  number  of  vibra- 
tions in  any  note  may  be  increased  and  its  pitch  made 
higher,  it  is  necessary  to  lessen  the  length  or  size  of  the 
cord,  or  of  whatever  causes  the  vibrations.  When  the 
vibrating  cord  is  lessened  by  just  one  half,  the  tone  pro- 
duced is  separated  from  its  former  tone  by  an  interval  of 
sound  which  in  music  is  termed  an  octave.  Between  the 
two  extremes  of  pitch  forming  the  octave,  eleven  half 
tones,  as  they  are  called,  caused  by  sounds  resulting  from 
different  lengths  of  the  cord,  between  its  whole  length 
and  its  half  length,  have  been  selected,  for  reasons  to  be 
given  in  another  place,  and  arranged  in  what  is  termed  a 
musical  scale.  These  half-tones,  seven  of  them  constitut- 
ing the  do,  re,  me,  fa,  sol,  la,  and  si  of  the  gamut,  are  all 
that  can  be  used  in  music  between  the  two  notes  forming 
the  octave.  There  are  about  seven  octaves,  or,  what  is 
the  same  thing,  seven  scales,  each  containing  twelve 
sounds  of  different  pitch, — in  all,  about  eighty-four  de- 


TUNES  OF   VERSE.  97 

grees  of  pitch  that  are  used  in  music.  In  the  speaking 
voice  only  about  two  octaves  are  used,  so  that  in  this  re- 
gard its  range  is  more  narrow  than  that  of  music.  Be- 
tween any  two  octave  notes,  however,  the  speaking  voice 
can  use  whatever  sounds  it  chooses ;  it  is  not  confined  to 
the  twelve  that  constitute  the  musical  scale.  For  instance, 
the  note  of  the  bass  voice  called  by  musicians  C,  is  sounded 
by  producing  one  hundred  and  thirty-two  vibrations  a  sec- 
ond, and  C  of  the  octave  above  by  producing  two  hundred 
and  sixty-four  vibrations.  Between  the  two,  therefore,  it 
is  possible  to  conceive  of  forming  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
one  distinct  tones,  each  vibrating  once  a  second  oftener 
than  the  sound  below  it.  It  is  possible,  too,  to  conceive 
that  the  speaking  voice  can  use  any  of  these  tones. 
Music,  however,  between  the  same  octave  notes,  can  use 
but  eleven  tones.  Therefore,  the  different  degrees  of  pitch 
used  in  speech,  though  not  extending  over  as  many  oc- 
taves, are  much  more  numerous  than  those  used  in  music. 
For  this  reason,  the  melodies  of  speech  cannot  be  repre- 
sented by  any  system  through  which  we  now  write  music. 
There  are  not  enough  notes  used  in  music  to  render  it 
possible  to  make  the  representation  accurate.  Nor  prob- 
ably would  much  practical  benefit  be  derived  from  an  at- 
tempt to  construct  a  system  of  speech-notation ;  though 
it,  like  other  things,  may  be  among  the  possibilities  of 
acoustic  development  in  the  future. 

In  applying  to  poetic  form  the  principles  determining 
pitch  in  elocution,  let  us  take  up  first  those  in  accordance 
with  which  certain  syllables  are  uttered  on  a  high  or  low 
key.  The  former  key  seems  suggested  by  vowels  formed 
at  the  mouth's  front,  as  in  beet,  bate,  bet,  bit,  bat,  etc. ;  the 
latter  by  back  vowels,  as  in  fool,  full,  foal,  fall,  etc.  The 
best  of  reasons  underlies  this  suggestion.  It  is  the  fact  that 


98  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

the  pronunciation  of  every  front  or  back  vowel-sound 
naturally  tends  to  the  production  of  a  high  or  low  musical 
note.  Bonders  first  made  the  discovery  that  the  cavity 
of  the  mouth,  when  whispering  each  of  the  different  vow- 
els, is  tuned  to  a  different  pitch.  This  fact  gives  the 
vowel  its  peculiar  quality.  Instruments,  moreover,  have 
been  constructed,  by  means  of  which  most  sounds  can  be 
analyzed,  and  their  component  tones  distinctly  and  defi- 
nitely noted ;  and  now  the  theory  is  accepted  that  the 
voice,  when  pronouncing  vowel-sounds,  at  whatever  key  in 
the  musical  scale  it  may  start  them,  has  a  tendency  to 
suggest — if  not  through  its  main,  or  what  is  termed  its 
prime  tone,  at  least  through  associated,  or  what  are  termed 
its  partial  tones — that  pitch  which  is  peculiar  to  the  vowel 
uttered. 

Exactly  what  this  pitch  is,  in  the  case  of  each  vowel,  it 
is  not  important  for  us  to  know  here.  In  fact,  it  has  not 
yet  been  definitely  determined.  Helmholtz,  in  his  "  Sen- 
sations of  Tone,"  says,  for  instance,  that  the  series,  which 
may  be  represented  in  English  by  a  in  father,  a  in  man,  e 
in  there,  and  i  in  machine,  forms  an  ascending  minor  chord 
of  G"— thus:  d'"—gf"—b"rflat—d"";  and  the  following 
represents  the  results  of  Merkel's  experiments  with  the 
German  vowels  given  in  his  "  Physiologic  der  Menschli- 
chen  Sprache  "  : 


UOOaA  OUAE         I 

But  what  concerns  us,  at  present,  is  merely  the  fact  that 
there  is  a  pitch  peculiar  to  the  sound  of  each  letter,  and  that 
the  pitch  of  the  sounds  approximating  long  u  is  actually, 


TUNES  OF   VERSE.  99 

and  not  ideally,  lower  in  tone  than  that  of  the  sounds 
approximating  the  long  English  e. 

With  this  understanding  of  the  actual  connection  exist- 
ing between  the  sounds  represented  by  certain  letters  and 
pitch,  it  follows,  as  a  matter  of  natural  law,  that  elocution- 
ary high  pitch — to  begin  with  this — should  find  its  poetic 
analogue  in  a  predominating  use  of  the  latter  class  of 
vowel-sounds,  especially  when  connected  with  consonant- 
sounds  that  cannot  be  prolonged,  and  therefore  cannot  in- 
troduce into  the  tone  other  strong  elements  of  pitch.  Poetic 
passages,  therefore,  composed  of  vowels  and  consonants 
of  this  character  are  suited,  like  elocutionary  high  pitch, 
to  represent  light,  gay,  and  lively  effects, — a  fact  which,  as 
will  be  noticed,  sustains  and  puts  upon  a  scientific  basis  all 
that  has  been  said  with  reference  to  the  unimportant,  or — 
what  is  the  same  thing — the  light,  gay,  and  lively  charac- 
ter of  the  ideas  represented  by  what  are  usually  the  same 
sounds  in  short  quantity.  With  these  explanations,  the 
reader  will  understand  in  what  sense  the  following  illus- 
trate high  pitch  as  used  in  poetry : 

He  took  a  life  preserver,  and  he  hit  him  on  the  head, 
And  Mrs.  Brown  dissected  him  before  she  went  to  bed. 

— Gentle  Alice  Brown  :  Gilbert. 

Haste  thee,  Nymph,  and  bring  with  thee 
Jest  and  youthful  Jollity, 
Quips,  and  Cranks,  and  wanton  Wiles, 
Nods,  and  Becks,  and  wreathed  Smiles, 
Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 
And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek  ; 
Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides 
And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 

—V Allegro  :  Milton. 

Vowels  of   the  same  kind  together  with  unprolonged 


100  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE   ART. 

consonant-sounds  are  used  also  to  imitate  sounds   that 
are  high  ;  e.  g.  : 

Then  rose  the  cry  of  females  shrill 
As  goss-hawk's  whistle  on  the  hill, 
Denouncing  misery  and  ill, 
Mingled  with  childhood's  babbling  trill 
Of  curses  stammered  slow. 


A  sharp  and  shrieking  echo  gave, 
Coir-Uriskin,  thy  goblin  cave, 
And  the  gray  pass  where  birches  wave 
On  Beala-nam-bo. 

—Lady  of  the  Lake  :  Scott. 

What  news  ?  what  news  ?  come  tell  to  me 
What  news  ?  what  news  ?  thou  little  Foot-page  ? 
I  *ve  been  whacking  the  foe  till  it  seems  an  age 
Since  I  was  in  Ingoldsby  Hall  so  free. 

—Ingoldsby  Penance  :  Ingoldsby  Legends. 

Bird  of  the  wilderness, 

Blithesome  and  cumberless, 
Sweet  is  thy  matin  o'er  moorland  and  lea ! 

Emblem  of  happiness 

Blest  be  thy  dwelling-place  ! 
O  to  abide  in  the  desert  with  thee  ! 

—  The  Skylark  :  Hogg. 

O  hark  !  what  mean  those  yells  and  cries  ? 

His  chain  some  furious  madman  breaks. 
He  comes  ! — I  see  his  glaring  eyes  ! 

Now,  now,  my  dungeon  grate  he  shakes. 
Help  !  help  ! — He  's  gone — O  fearful  woe. 

Such  screams  to  hear,  such  sights  to  see  ! 
My  brain,  my  brain — I  know,  I  know 

I  am  not  mad — but  soon  shall  be. 

—  The  Maniac  :  M.  G.  Lewis. 

Sounds  of  the  nature  of  u,  o,  a,  on  the  contrary,  espe- 
cially when    combined  with   consonant-sounds   that  can 


TUNES  OF   VERSE.  IOI 

easily  be  prolonged,  produce  the  serious,  grave  and  digni- 
fied effects  of  low  pitch,  as  in  the  following: 

Insulted,  chained,  and  all  the  world  our  foe, 
Our  God  alone  is  all  we  boast  below. 

—  The  Captivity  :  Goldsmith. 

Then  dying  of  a  mortal  stroke, 
What  time  the  foeman's  line  is  broke, 
And  all  the  war  is  rolled  in  smoke. 

—  Two  Voices:   Tennyson. 

Or  as  in  these  imitative  effects : 

Thus  long  ago, 

Ere  heaving  bellows  learned  to  blow, 
While  organs  yet  were  mute, 
Timotheous  to  his  breathing  flute 

And  sounding  lyre 
Could  swell  the  soul  to  rage  or  kindle  soft  desire. 

— Alexander* s  Feast :  Dryden. 

And  waft  across  the  waves'  tumultuous  roar 
The  wolf's  long  howl  from  Oonalaska's  shore. 

—Pleasures  of  Hope  :  Campbell. 

Notice  how  Swinburne,  with  his  exquisite  sense  of  the 
meanings  of  sounds,  passes  from  low  pitch  to  high  pitch, 
or  the  reverse,  in  order  to  bring  out  the  changes  in  senti- 
ment in  the  following: 

Old  glory  of  warrior  ghosts 

Shed  fresh  on  filial  hosts, 

With  dewfall  redder  than  the  dews  of  day. 

—Birthday  Ode. 

Being  bird  and  God  in  one. 

— On  the  Cli/s. 

Whose  heart  was  ever  set  to  song,  or  stirred 
With  wind  of  mounting  music  blown  more  high 
Than  wildest  wing  may  fly. 

— On  the  Cliffs. 


102  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

With  songs  and  cries 

That  sang  and  shrieked  their  soul  out  at  the  skies, 
A  shapeless  earthly  storm  of  shapes  began 
From  all  ways  round  to  move  in  on  the  man, 
Clamorous  against  him  silent ;  and  their  feet 
Were  as  the  winds'  are  fleet, 
And  their  shrill  songs  were  as  wild  birds'  are  sweet. 

—  Thalassius. 


CHAPTER  IX, 

POETIC  PITCH — RISING  AND   FALLING  TONES. 

Correspondence  between  Elocutionary  Inflections  or  Intonations  and 
certain  Arrangements  of  Verse-Harmony  produced  by  Sounds  of  Vow- 
els and  Consonants  combined — Effects  of  Rising  Movements  produced 
by  Lines  beginning  without  Accents  and  ending  with  them — Of  falling 
Movements,  by  Lines  beginning  with  Accents  and  ending  without  them 
— Of  Circumflex  Movements,  by  Combinations  of  both  Arrangements — 
What  the  Marks  of  Accent  indicated  to  the  Greeks,  and  how  they  read 
them  in  their  Poetry — Illustrations  of  Ideas  represented  by  Verse 
arranged  to  give  Effects  of  Rising,  Falling,  and  Circumflex  Movements 
— Movements  of  Verse  in  Narration  and  Pathos. 

PHE  poetic  effects,  corresponding  to  the  rising  and 
falling  of  the  voice,  especially  as  used  in  the  inflec- 
tions, will  now  be  examined.  There  is  a  sense  in  which 
these  movements  of  the  voice  enter  into  the  pronunciation 
\>f  every  syllable  containing  more  than  one  letter-sound. 
In  uttering,  for  example,  the  word  an,  the  sound  of  the  a 
is  at  a  different  pitch  from  that  of  the  n.  In  talking 
rapidly,  however,  the  two  sounds  seem  usually  uttered,  not 
in  succession  but  simultaneously.  Their  effects,  therefore, 
when  combined,  are  analogous,  not  to  those  of  musical 
melody,  but  of  harmony,  and  of  these  much  more  closely 
than  at  first  might  be  supposed.  In  flexible,  well-trained 
voices,  belonging  to  those  familiar  with  the  relations  of 
musical  tones,  there  is  a  tendency  to  sound  the  two  at 
such  intervals  of  pitch  from  each  other  as  to  form  a  true 
musical  chord.  One  reason  why  vocal  culture  increases 


104  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

the  sweetness  and  resonance  of  the  speaking  voice  is 
because  it  enables  one  to  sound  distinctly  all  the  elements 
of  tone  needed,  in  order  to  produce  this  speech-harmony. 
The  rising  and  falling  of  the  voice  with  which  we  have 
to  deal  now,  however,  are  not  those  subtile  ones  allying 
speech  to  harmony,  but  those  more  obvious  ones  which 
give  it  a  very  apparent  melody.  The  effects  in  poetry 
corresponding  to  elocutionary  inflections,  are  produced 
by  the  same  arrangements  of  the  syllables  in  the  line  that 
we  have  already  noticed  when  considering  metre.  In  our 
language,  as  a  rule, — a  rule  which  the  elocutionist,  of 
course,  can  violate  in  order  to  produce  what  for  him  are 
the  more  important  effects  of  delivery, — an  accented  sylla- 
ble is  sounded  on  a  key  higher  than  an  unaccented  one. 
To  illustrate  this,  in  the  ordinary  pronunciation  of  cbnjurey 
meaning  to  practise  magical  arts,  the  con  is  sounded  higher 
than  the  jure ;  but  in  conjhre  meaning  to  summon  sol- 
emnly, the  con  is  sounded  lower.  Therefore,  if  a  line  of 
poetry  end  with  an  accented  syllable,  or  have  what  is 
termed  a  masculine  ending,  the  voice  in  pausing  on  this, 
as  it  generally  does  at  the  end  of  a  line,  will  pause,  as  a 
rule,  on  a  key  higher  than  that  on  which  it  has  uttered  the 
preceding  syllable.  Notice  this  snow  and  below  : 

I  sift  the  snow 
On  the  mountains  below, 
And  their  great  pines  groan  aghast. 

—  The  Cloud:  Shelley. 

Or  again,  if  a  line  begin  with  an  unaccented  syllable,  the 
voice  will  pass  upward  from  this  to  the  accented  syllable ; 
and  this  movement,  begun  with  the  line,  will  continue  to 
its  end,  especially  if  there  be  an  accented  syllable  there. 
The  effect  produced,  therefore,  in  both  cases,  is  that  of  a 
constant  repetition  of  the  rising  inflection  ;  e.  g.  : 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  INFLECTIONS.       10$ 

The  triumphal  arch 

Through  which  I  march 
With  hurricane,  fire,  and^snow, 

When  the  powers  of  the  air 

Are  chained  to  my  chair, 
Is  the  million  colored  bow.  —Idem, 

For  similar  reasons,  if  a  line  close  with  an  unaccented  syl- 
lable, having  what  is  termed  a  feminine  ending;  or  begin 
with  an  accented  syllable,  the  effect  is  that  of  a  constant  rep- 
etition of  the  falling  inflection.  In  fact,  the  Greeks,  though 
arriving  at  their  result  through  a  different  process,  actually 
termed  lines  ending  thus  catalectic  or  falling ;  e.  g.  : 

Love  he  comes,  and  love  he  tarries, 
Just  as  fate  or  fancy  carries, 
Longest  stays  when  sorest  chidden, 
Laughs  and  flies  when  pressed  and  bidden. 

—  7Jhe  First  Kiss  :  Campbell. 

Perhaps  the  contrast  between  this  movement  and  the 
former  one  can  be  made  more  apparent  by  quoting  two  ex- 
ceptional lines  of  the  same  poem  used  for  illustration  there : 

I  am  the  daughter 
Of  earth  and  water. 

—  The  Cloud:  Shelley. 

Very  few,  without  making  a  special  effort  to  do  so, 
could  read  these  lines,  giving  rising  inflections  on  the 
syllable  ter  at  the  ends  of  them.  Nor  is  it  without  sig- 
nificance that  there  is  a  natural  tendency  for  musical  com- 
posers, when  preparing  tunes  for  words,  to  arrange  their 
melodies  so  that  there  is  an  emphatic  rising  of  the  voice 
where  the  final  syllables  either  of  the  feet  or  of  the  lines, 
but  especially  of  the  latter,  are  accented,  and  a  falling  of 
it,  where  they  are  unaccented.  Notice  the  following,  and 
also  the  musical  illustrations,  especially  the  hymn  termed 
Bayley,  in  the  next  chapter, — all  of  which  were  selected  in 
a  very  few  moments  from  an  ordinary  hymn-book. 


IO6  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Like  Effects  of  Pitch  Shown  in  the  Melody  of  both  Music  and  Verse. 
Lines  with  Falling  or  Feminine  Endings.  With  Rising  or  Masculine  Endings. 

ZION. 


1        1*      J 

j    Zi  -  on  stands  with  hills  surrounded,         Zi   -  on,    kept   with  pow 
J   All  her  foes  shall  be  con-found-ed,       Though  the    world    in    arn 

er     di  -    vine  ;  ) 
is     com  -  bine  ;  } 

-Ml             ^ 

L|  —  1  —  I  —  LJ  ,  —  U   _ 

thine 


Hap    -    py           Zi 
.*-•-»-          -£2. 

-      on, 

-*;=* 

What     a 
fl    =f±=fi 

fav  -  ored    lot          is        thine. 

=r-Cl  9-^—r-T^^ 

1  t*  —  '  —  i  

-H  *—  '  

S  rr- 

It  was  said,  a  little  time  ago,  that  the  circumflex  inflec- 
tions, in  accordance  with  the  principle  of  contrast,  make 
stronger  the  rising  or  falling  movements  with  which  they 
end.  In  like  manner,  certain  arrangements  of  syllables 
augment  the  rising  or  falling  poetic  movements  which  we 
are  now  considering.  If,  for  instance,  series  of  lines  both 
end  and  begin  with  accented  syllables,  the  impression  con- 
veyed by  the  rising  movement  at  the  end  of  a  line  is 
increased,  because  it  is  immediately  repeated  at  the  begin- 
ing  of  the  next  line  ;  and  the  voice,  before  repeating  it, 
must  necessarily  pause  for  a  little,  thus  directing  addi- 
tional attention  to  it ;  e.  g.  : 

On  a  hill  there  grows  a  flower, 

Fair  befall  the  dainty  sweet, 
By  that  flower  there  is  a  bower, 

Where  the  heavenly  muses  meet. 

— Pkillis  the  Fair  :  Ar.  Breton. 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  INFLECTIONS.       IO/ 

For  a  similar  reason,  if  lines  both  end  and  begin  with 
unaccented  syllables,  the  effect  of  the  falling  movement  is 
increased  ;  e.  g.  : 

O  mistress  mine,  where  are  you  roaming  ? 
O  stay,  and  hear  ;  your  true  love  's  coming. 

—  Twelfth  Night,  ii.,  3  :  Shakespear. 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  that  this  incidental  use  of  the 
spoken  accent  in  our  language  in  order  to  represent  pitch, 
is  just  that  which  the  best  authorities,  both  ancient  and 
modern,  agree  in  acknowledging  to  have  been  the  main 
use  of  the  written  accent  in  the  classic  languages.  The 
word  accent  comes  from  the  Latin  accentus,  from  ad  and 
canere  meaning  to  sing  to,  and  the  Greek  word  for  the 
same  TtpoGcpdia  comes  from  TtpoG  and  cpdrf,  and  means  a 
mark/07-  singing,  or  for  tones  of  voice,  and  not  merely  for 
stress  or  the  ictus.  All  the  Greek  terms  used  for  specific 
accents,  too,  were  borrowed  from  those  used  in  music. 
The  acute  accent  was  called  o'geia,  meaning  sharp  or  high, 
the  grave  fiapeia,  meaning  heavy  or  low,  and  the  circum- 
flex TtepiGTtGdjj.t'yri,  from  TtepiffTtdao  meaning  to  draw 
around.  This  circumflex,  by-the-way,  was  almost  always 
used  upon  syllables  that  had  been  contracted,  and  this  for 
the  simple  purpose,  as  will  become  evident  upon  reflec- 
tion, of  representing  in  a  single  syllable  movements  of  the 
voice  that  before  had  been  represented  in  two  :  Ti-j*a-G0, 
for  instance,  when  contracted,  would  become  TI- 


It  will  be  seen  from  this  that  the  accents,  as  used  by 
the  Greeks,  indicated  not  stress  of  voice,  but  tones  not 
wholly  dissimilar  from  those  indicated  by  precisely  the 


108  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

same  marks  when  used  to-day  in  our  works  on  elocution. 
Dr.  Schmidt,  in  the  "  Rythmic  and  Metric  of  the  Classic 
Languages,"  says  :  "  It  is  easy  to  see  that  a  Greek  verse 
can  and  must  be  pronounced  throughout  with  the  prose 
accents,  and  that  this  can  be  done  without  any  conflict 
arising  between  the  prose  accents  and  the  quantity  of 
syllables  and  their  ictus  in  poetry.  The  following  verse, 
therefore,  may  be  read  : 


Iv  -   ve  -  ae,  Afov-oa,  no  -  Zv-tyo-Tiov,    6s       pd-la     rtol-Jiil. 


11  Here,  as  it  happens,  the  high  tone  and  the  ictus  coin- 
cide in  the  first  measures,  but  not  in  the  fifth  and  sixth. 
But  in  English,  as  before  remarked,  the  high  tone  is 
almost  always  joined  to  the  ictus.  .  .  .  The  following 
verse  is  accented  in  reading  as  follows  : 


"  Hail      to        the      chief    who       in        tri   -    umph      ad   -   van    -    ces. 

In  this  way  there  arises  a  regularity  in  the  succession  of 
the  high  and  low  tones  which  very  closely  resembles  sing- 
ing." As  Schmidt  says  truly,  in  modern  verse,  because  it 
is  read,  not  chanted,  the  ictus  and  the  high  tone  are  con- 
nected more  invariably  than  in  the  ancient  verse.  For 
this  reason  the  ictus  or  stress,  when  given  at  the  beginning 
or  end  of  the  line,  must  indicate  very  nearly  the  same 
thing  as  the  high  tone  when  used  at  these  places. 
What  the  former  indicates  was  shown  when  treating  of 
stress  and  the  measures.  What  the  latter  indicates  is  to 
be  shown  now.  Those  who  choose  to  compare  the  two 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  INFLECTIONS.       1 09 

results  will  find  that,  practically,  they  agree,  and  so,  while 
considering  accent  as  related  to  pitch,  will  derive  a  con- 
firmation of  the  truth  of  the  principles  unfolded  when 
considering  it  as  related  to  force. 

Let  us  take  up,  then,  the  different  kinds  of  accent  al- 
ready mentioned  as  necessitating  the  rising  and  falling 
movements  of  the  voice.  The  accent  accompanying 
terminal  measure,  in  which  the  high  tone  ends  but  does 
not  begin  the  line,  and  corresponding  to  the  rising  inflec- 
tion, according  to  elocutionary  principles,  must  emphat- 
ically open  the  channel  of  thought,  as  if  to  speed  it 
forward,  producing  thus  an  anticipative  effect.  Accents 
accompanying  initial  measure,  in  which  the  high  tone  be- 
gins but  does  not  end  the  line,  and  corresponding  to  the 
downward  inflection,  must  emphatically  close  the  channel 
of  thought,  producing  thus  a  conclusive  effect.  Now  con- 
trast the  following.  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  the  rising  move- 
ments  have  a  constant  tendency  to  sweep  the  thought 
along  with  their  current,  and  the  falling  to  check  it? 
This  is  rising : 

Though  my  back  I  should  rub 
On  Diogenes'  tub, 
How  my  fancy  could  prance 
In  a  dance  of  romance. 

— Life  of  Napoleon  :  Scott. 

Over  hill,  over  dale, 
Thorough  bush,  thorough  brier, 
Over  park,  over  pale, 
Thorough  flood,  thorough  fire. 
— Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  ii.,  I:   Shakespear. 

Past  cannon  they  dashed, 
Past  cannon  that  flashed, 
Past  cannon  that  crashed 
Through  their  columns  in  vain. 

— A  Charge:  Anon. 


IIO  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

And  these  are  falling : 

Down  they  tear,  man  and  horse, 
Down  in  their  awful  course  ; 
Trampling  with  bloody  heel 
Over  the  crashing  steel, — 
All  their  eyes  forward  bent, 
Rushed  the  Black  Regiment. 

—  The  Black  Regiment :  Boker. 

Cannon  to  right  of  them, 
Cannon  to  left  of  them, 
Cannon  in  front  of  them 
Volley'd  and  thundered. 

— Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade  :  Tennyson. 

These,  again,  are  rising : 

Oh,  young  Lochinvar  is  come  out  of  the  west, 
Through  all  the  wide  border  his  steed  was  the  best. 

— Lochinvar:  Scott. 

I  sprang  to  the  stirrup,  and  Joris,  and  he, 

I  galloped,  Dirk  galloped,  we  galloped  all  three. 

— How  They  Brought  the  Good  News  :  Browning. 

When  dark  December  glooms  the  day 
And  takes  my  autumn  joys  away  ; 
When  short  and  scant  the  sunbeam  throws 
Upon  the  weary  waste  of  snows 
A  cold  and  profitless  regard, 

****** 
When  such  the  country  cheer,  I  come, 
Well  pleased,  to  seek  my  city  home  ; 
For  converse  and  for  books  to  change 
The  forest's  melancholy  range, 
'     And  welcome  with  renewed  delight 
The  busy  day  and  social  night. 

— Marmion  :  Scott. 
And  these  are  falling : 

Buried  and  cold  when  my  heart  stills  her  motion, 
Green  be  thy  fields,  sweetest  isle  of  the  ocean. 

— Exile  of  Erin:  Campbell. 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  INFLECTIONS.       lit 

But  amid  my  broken  slumbers 
Still  I  heard  those  magic  numbers, 
***** 

Till  their  chimes  in  sweet  collision 
Mingled  with  each  wandering  vision, 
Mingled  with  the  fortune-telling 
Gypsy  bands  of  dreams  and  fancies, 
Which  amid  the  waste  expanses 
Of  the  silent  land  of  trances 
Have  their  solitary  dwelling. 

— Carillon  .•  Longfellow 

These  are  rising  : 

Among  the  fancies  tell  me  this, 
What  is  the  thing  we  call  a  kiss  ? 
I  shall  resolve  ye  what  it  is. 

—  The  Kiss:  R.  Herrick. 

A  higher  hand  must  make  her  mild 

If  all  be  not  in  vain  ;  and  guide 

Her  footsteps  moving  side  by  side 
With  wisdom  like  the  younger  child. 

— In  Memonam  :  Tennyson. 

And  these  are  falling : 

How  delicious  is  the  winning 
Of  a  kiss  at  love's  beginning, 
When  two  mutual  hearts  are  sighing 
For  the  knot  there  's  no  untying. 

—  The  First  Kiss  :  Campbell. 

And  all  fancies  yearn  to  cover 

The  hard  earth  whereon  she  passes, 

With  the  thymy-scented  grasses. 
And  all  hearts  do  pray,  "  God  love  her." 

— A  Portrait :  Mrs.  Browning. 

The  two  effects  under  consideration  may  not  be  appar- 
ent to  the  reader  in  all  of  these  quotations ;  but  if  we 
turn  to  the  stronger  methods  of  securing  the  same  end — 
those  corresponding  to  the  rising  and  falling  circumflex, — 
none  probably  will  fail  to  recognize  them.  Notice,  in  the 


112  FOE  TRY  AS  A   REPRESENTA  TIVE  AR  T. 

following,  how  the  effect  of  the  rising  movement  is  in- 
creased  when  an  accented  syllable  at  the  end  of  one  line 
is  followed  immediately  by  an  accent  at  the  beginning 
of  the  next  line : 

Comrades,  leave  me  here  a  little,  while  as  yet  't  is  early  morn  ; 
Leave  me  here  ;  and  when  you  want  me,  sound  upon  the  bugle-horn. 

— Locksley  Hall :   Tennyson. 

In  the  same  way,  the  checking  effect  of  the  falling  move- 
ment is  stronger  when  an  unaccented  syllable  at  the  end 
of  one  line  is  followed  by  another  unaccented  syllable  at 
the  beginning  of  the  next ;  e.  g.  : 

With  deep  affection 
And  recollection, 
I  often  think  of 

Those  Shandon  bells  ; 
Whose  sounds  so  wild  would, 
In  the  days  of  childhood, 
Fling  round  my  cradle 

Their  magic  spells. 

—  The  Bells  of  Shandon  .•  F.  Mahony. 

But  the  rhythm  corresponding  to  the  rising  inflection, 
besides  emphatically  opening  the  channel  of  thought,  as 
if  to  speed  its  current  onward,  should  also,  according  to 
the  principles  of  elocution,  have  the  effect  of  representing 
anticipation,  fwpe.  Look  at  this  : 

When  ends  life's  transient  dream, 
When  death's  cold  sullen  stream 

Shall  o'er  me  roll, 
Blest  Saviour,  then  in  love, 
Fear  and  distrust  remove; 
O  bear  me  safe  above, 

A  ransomed  soul. 

— Hymn  :  Palmer. 

And  that  corresponding  to  the  falling  inflection  should 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  INFLECTIONS.       113 

represent    collusiveness,  therefore  confidence,  assurance ; 
e.  g. : 

There  no  sigh  of  memory  swelleth  ; 
There  no  tear  of  misery  welleth  ; 

*  *  *  *  * 

Past  is  all  the  cold  world's  scorning, 
Gone  the  night  and  broke  the  morning. 

— Hymn  :  Anon. 

Here  again,  too,  is  anticipation,  expectancy ',  hope  : 

Come,  rest  in  this  bosom,  my  own  stricken  deer, 

Though  the  herd  have  fled  from  thee,  thy  home  is  still  here  ; 

Here  still  is  the  smile  that  no  cloud  can  o'ercast, 

And  a  heart  and  a  hand  all  thine  own  to  the  last. 

— Come,  Rest,  etc,:  Moore. 

And  here,  collusiveness,  confidence,  assurance  : 

Come  in  the  evening,  or  come  in  the  morning  ; 

Come  when  you  're  looked  for,  or  come  without  warning  ; 

Kisses  and  welcome  you  '11  find  here  before  you, 

And  the  oftener  you  come  here,  the  more  I  '11  adore  you. 

—  The  Welcome  :   T.  Davis. 

This   again,   like   the   rising    inflection,   represents   in 
decision,  doubt  : 

That  men  with  knowledge  merely  played, 
I  told  thee — hardly  nigher  made, 
Though  scaling  slow  from  grade  to  grade  ; 

Much  less  this  dreamer,  deaf  and  blind, 
Named  man,  may  hope  some  truth  to  find, 
That  bears  relation  to  the  mind. 

—  Two  Voices  :   Tennyson. 

And  this,  corresponding  to  the  falling  inflection,  repre- 
sents so  much  decision  and  disregard  of  doubtful  considera- 
tions as  to  seem  flippant  : 

Ah,  but  traditions,  inventions, 

(Say  we  and  make  up  a  visage,) 
So  many  men  with  such  various  intentions, 


114  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Down  the  past  ages  must  know  more  than  this  age  ! 
Leave  the  web  all  its  dimensions  ! 

— Master  Hugues  of  Saxe-Gotha  :  Browning. 

The  old  fashioned  narrative  that  dealt  with  facts,  con- 
cerning which  one  could  be  decided  and  sure,  could  find  a 
satisfactory  expression  in  the  hexameter ;  e.  g. : 

This  is  the  forest  primeval  ;  but  where  are  the  hearts  that  beneath  it 
Leaped  like  the   roe  when  he  hears  in  the  woodland  the  voice  of  the 
huntsman  ? 

— Evangeline  :  Longfellow. 

But  the  present  age  is  analytic.  Its  narratives  deal  with 
motives,  concerning  which  no  one  can  be  sure.  Is  this 
one  reason  why  we  prefer  a  more  indecisive,  hesitating 
movement  ?  as  in  our  heroic  metre  : 

Of  man's  first  disobedience,  and  the  fruit 
Of  that  forbidden  tree,  whose  mortal  taste 
Brought  death  into  the  world  and  all  our  woe,  etc. 

— Paradise  Lost :  Milton. 

Or  that  we  feel,  instinctively,  that  the  more  decisive 
metre  is  fitter  for  the  mock  heroic  ? — 

Tell  me  whither  I  may  hie  me — tell  me,  dear  one,  that  I  may  know, 
Is  it  up  the  highest  Andes  ?  down  a  horrible  volcano  ? 

— Ferdinando  and  Elvira  :  Gilbert. 

Or  for  the  pathetic, — in  a  case  like  this,  in  which  the 
very  decisiveness  of  the  mood,  the  remorseless  assurance  of 
being  right,  that  is  conveyed  by  the  style,  enhances  the 
effect  ?  Notice  it : 

One  more  unfortunate, 
Weary  of  breath, 
Rashly  importunate, 
Gone  to  her  death. 

— Bridge  of  Sighs  :  Hood. 


CHAPTER  X. 

POETIC   PITCH— MELODY  AND   RHYME. 

Variety  and  Monotony  in  Elocution  and  Poetry  representing  less  or  more 
Control  over  Self  and  the  Subject — True  Significance  of  Alliteration,XL 
Assonance,  etc. — Rhyme  introducing  Element  of  Sameness — Increases 
effects  of  Versification,  of  Unity  of  Poetic  Form,  of  Emphasis  of  all 
Kinds,  of  Regularity  of  Movement,  of  Rapidity  of  Thought — Results 
of  Changing  the  Order  of  the  Occurrence  of  Rhymes  in  Tennyson's  In 
Memoriam — Blank  Verse  admitting  of  Great  Variety  Preferable  for  Long 
Productions. 

"PASSING  on  now,  to  consider  the  poetic  analogues  for 
variety  and  monotony  in  elocutionary  melody,  it  will 
be  recognized  at  once  that  the  first  is  found  in  verse  in 
which  the  sounds  differ  greatly,  and  the  second  in  that  in 
which  they  are  very  similar.  The  following,  therefore, 
corresponding  to  varied  melody,  represent,  and  very 
appropriately,  too,  a  buoyant,  unrestrained  mood,  in  which 
the  soul  is  exercising  very  little  control over  either  itself  or 
its  modes  of  expression  (see  page  95) : 

Her  feet  beneath  her  petticoat 
Like  little  mice  stole  in  and  out, 

As  if  they  feared  the  light : 
But  oh,  she  dances  such  a  way 
No  sun  upon  an  Easter-day 

Is  half  so  fine  a  sight  ! 

— Ballad  upon  a  Wedding  :  Suckling* 

Hast  thou  seen  the  down  in  the  air, 
When  wanton  blasts  have  tossed  it  ? 


Il6  POETRY  ASA   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Or  the  ship  on  the  sea. 

When  ruder  winds  have  crossed  it  ? 

— Lute  Song  :  Suckling. 

When  Israel  marched  along  the  desert  land, 
Blazed  through  the  night  on  lonely  wilds  afar, 
And  told  the  path — a  never  setting  star : 
So,  heavenly  Genius  in  thy  course  divine, 
Hope  is  thy  star,  her  light  is  ever  thine. 

— Pleasures  of  Hope  :  Campbell. 

And  the  following,  in  which  there  is  much  alliteration 
(i.  e.,  repetition  of  the  same  consonant-sounds),  and  asso- 
nance (i.  e.,  repetition  of  the  same  vowel-sounds),  represent 
a  very  high  degree  of  restraint  on  the  part  of  the  soul,  and 
control  exercised  over  itself  and  its  modes  of  expression. 

Lo,  the  leader  in  these  glorious  wars, 
Now  to  glorious  burial  slowly  borne, 
Followed  by  the  brave  of  other  lands, 
He  on  whom  from  both  her  open  hands ; 
Lavish  honor  showered  all  her  stars, 
And  affluent  fortune  emptied  all  her  horn. 

— Ode  on  Duke  of  Wellington  :   Tennyson. 

More  strong  than  strong  disaster, 

For  fate  and  fear  too  strong  ; 
Earth's  friend,  whose  eyes  look  past  her, 

Whose  hands  would  purge  of  wrong  j 
Our  lord,  our  light,  our  master, 

Whose  word  sums  up  all  song. 

— Garden  of  Cymodoce  :  Swinburne. 

These  quotations,  and  the  principle  they  illustrate,  show 
us  the  true  significance  of  passages  in  which  we  find 
grouped  the  same  sounds,  as  in  assonance  and  alliteration 
just  mentioned  ;  or  similar  sounds,  as  in  poetic  gradation 
(i.  e.,  a  series  of  vowels  all  different,  in  which  each  is  at  the 
smallest  remove  of  all  from  the  one  following  it),  and 
syzygy  (i.  e.,  a  combination  of  consonants  easy  to  pro- 


MELODY  AND  RHYME. 

nounce).  All  these  sprang,  originally,  from  that  tendency 
at  the  basis  of  all  art-construction,  to  bring  together,  as  a 
result  of  comparison,  things  that  are  alike  or  allied.  But 
their  significance,  which  alone  concerns  us  at  present,  is 
this  :  if  no  attention  whatever  be  paid  to  the  succession 
of  vowels  and  consonants  ;  if  those  combined  be  arranged 
so  that  they  cannot  be  pronounced  easily  and  smoothly, 
the  verses  appear  devoid  of  art,  the  chief  effect  of  which 
is  to  reduce  that  with  which  it  has  to  deal  to  order  and 
form.  In  the  following,  for  instance,  the  writer  manifests 
no  control  over  his  own  powers  of  expression  or  his  ideas. 
He  presumably  meant  to  give  them  an  artistic  form,  but 
as  arranged  they  produce  no  artistic  effect. 

Numerous  were  the  friends  that  gathered, 

When  in  the  good  ship  "  Hibernia  " 

They  weighed  anchor  in  the  harbor 

Of  the  Metropolitan  City. 

It  would  take  too  long  to  narrate 

All  the  many  things  that  happened 

In  their  voyage  across  the  ocean. 

— Sketches  of  Palestine  :  Hammond. 

If,  on  the  contrary,  the  writer  has  made  too  much  of 
qualities  like  assonance  and  alliteration,  the  impression  con- 
veyed is  that  of  too  much  suppression  and  control.  There 
seems  to  be  no  spontaneity  in  his  work.  The  following 
produces,  as  is  its  intention,  an  artificial  effect. 

Holof ernes,  I  will  somewhat  affect  the  letter,  for  it  argues  facility : 
The  preyful  Princess  pierced  and  prick'd  a  pretty  pleasing  pricket ; 
Some  say  a  sore  ;  but  not  a  sore,  till  now  made  sore  with  shooting. 

— Love's  Labor  's  Lost,  iv.,  2  :  Shakespear. 

Swinburne  is  sometimes  almost  equally  artificial. 

His  eyes  gat  grace  of  sleep,  to  see 

The  deep  divine  dark  day-shine  of  the  sea, 

Dense  water-walls  and  clear  dusk  water-ways, 


Il8  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Broad-based  or  branching  as  a  sea-flower  sprays 
That  side  or  this  dividing. 

—  Thalassius, 

The  following  are  better,  because  in  the  sense  there  is 
some  reason  for  the  alliteration. 

O  wind,  O  wingless  wind  that  walk'st  the  sea, 
Weak  wind,  wing-broken,  wearier  wind  than  we. 

— On  the  Cliffs  :  Swinburne. 

And  dulled  to  death  with  deep  dense  funeral  chime 
Of  their  reiterate  rhyme. 

— Idem. 

Between  the  two  extremes  that  have  been  mentioned, 
however,  the  poet  can  find  every  degree  of  sameness  and 
change,  unity  and  variety,  with  which  to  represent  every 
kind  of  thought  truthfully. 

It  is  evident,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  the  chief 
effect  of  rhyme,  or  the  recurrence  of  similar  sounds  at  the 
ends  of  lines,  is  to  introduce  into  the  verse  the  element  of 
sameness.  This  sameness  of  itself,  as  has  been  intimated 
in  another  place,  increases  the  effects  of  versification  by 
directing  attention  to  the  ends  of  the  lines  and  thus  sepa- 
rating them.  Besides  this,  especially  if  the  rhymes  be 
used  at  like  intervals,  as  is  generally  the  case,  they  tend 
to  give  unity  to  the  form.  Their  influence  in  this  regard 
is  precisely  analogous  to  that  of  the  cadences  and  half 
cadences,  which,  coming  at  the  ends  of  musical  phrases, 
give  the  effect  of  unity  to  musical  composition.  Notice 
in  the  following  how  often  the  alternate  lines,  both  in  the 
music  and  words,  end  at  the  same  pitch.  Notice,  too,  at 
the  close  of  each  line,  as  in  the  illustration  in  the  last 
chapter,  how  the  music  of  the  melody  rises  with  accented 
or  masculine  verse-endings,  the  analogues  of  rising  inflec- 
tions ;  and  falls  with  unaccented  or  feminine  verse-endings, 
the  analogues  of  falling  inflections.  Of  course  there  are 


MELODY  AND  RHYME. 


tunes  set  to  words  in  which  correspondences  of  this  kind  are 
less  apparent ;  but  the  following  represent  arrangements 
sufficiently  common  to  justify  what  is  here  said  of  them. 

Lines  Ended  with  Like  Effects  of  Pitch  in  the  Melody  of  both  Music  and  Verse. 
Falling  or  Feminine  Endings.  Rising  or  Masculine  Endings. 

WILMOT. 


Still    we     wait  for  thine  ap  -pear -ing;        Life  and   joy   thy   beams  im  -  part, 

-g— *— *-r± 


Chas-ingall     our    fears,  and    cheer-ing  Ev  -  cry  poor,  be  -  night-ed  heart. 


BAYLEY. 


gs^e 

*=f=j=^ 

^iiJA  " 

Love 

di  -  vine,  all    loves  ex  -  cell  -  ing,          Joy     of  heaven,  to  earth  come  down  ! 

s  t  -s-a  r  r  r  f 

r^J^g         .. 

-VI  r  r 

•r-r  r  r  11 

II  III 

Fix      in      us    thine  hum  -  ble  dwell  -  ing  ;          All      thy  faith-nil      mer  -  cies  crown  ; 
D.  s.  Vis  -   it      us    with    thy     sal  -  va  -  tion  ;          En  -  ter    ev  -  ery    trem-bling  heart. 


-»-  '  _-<•-    -1+      -p-  -jf-  •    -m-    m     •*-      -J-J  m 


-51  -»    * 

Je  -  sus  !  thou  art    all      corn-pass  -  ion,          Pure    un-bound-ed   love    thou  art ; 

3! 


I2O  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Like  these  similarly  ending  cadences  and  half  cadences 
in  music,  rhymes  furnish  a  framework  about  which,  or 
rather  within  which,  all  the  other  form-elements  of  the 
verse  are  brought  together.  This  is  the  reason  why  it  is 
easier  for  beginners  to  write  poetry  in  rhymes  than  in 
blank  verse.  All  successful  verse  must  have  form,  and 
rhymes  of  themselves  tend  to  give  it  this. 

Not  only  so,  but — what  is  of  main  importance  in  our 
present  treatment  of  the  subject — they  serve  equally  to 
furnish  a  framework  for  the  poetic  thought.  The  rhym- 
ing words,  especially  the  last  of  two  or  three  that  rhyme, 
always  appear  to  be  especially  emphatic.  In  fact,  they 
seem  to  add  to  the  emphasis  in  almost  every  possible  way. 
They  augment  the  effects  of  duration  or  quantity,  because 
at  the  end  of  the  line,  where  the  rhyme  usually  is,  the 
voice,  as  a  rule,  pauses ;  of  force,  because  rhyming  sylla- 
bles, at  least  the  last  ones  in  which  a  sound  is  repeated, 
appear  to  be  pronounced  more  strongly  than  others ;  of 
pitch,  because,  as  we  have  found,  where  the  vowel-sounds 
are  the  same,  the  pitch  seems  the  same ;  and  of  quality,  as 
we  shall  find,  because  the  likeness  of  the  rhyming  sylla- 
bles necessarily  attracts  attention.  For  all  these  reasons, 
rhymes  necessarily  tend  to  thrust  into  prominence  the 
ideas  expressed  in  them.  Notice  this  fact  as  exemplified 
in  the  following : 

Know,  then,  thyself  ;  presume  not  God  to  scan  ; 
The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man. 

— Essay  on  Man  :  Pope. 

All  are  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  whole 
Whose  body  nature  is,  and  God  the  soul. 

—Idem. 

All  nature  is  but  art  unknown  to  thee  ; 

All  chance,  direction  which  thou  canst  not  see ; 


RHYMES.  121 

All  discord,  harmony  not  understood ; 
All  partial  evil,  universal  good  ; 
And  spite  of  pride  in  erring  reason's  spite, 
One  truth  is  clear,  Whatever  is,  is  right. 

— Idem. 

She  dwelt  among  the  untrodden  ways 

Beside  the  springs  of  Dove, 
A  maid  whom  there  were  none  to  praise, 

And  very  few  to  love  : 

A  violet  by  a  mossy  stone 

Half  hidden  from  the  eye — 
Fair  as  a  star  when  only  one 

Is  shining  in  the  sky. 

She  lived  unknown,  and  few  could  know 

When  Lucy  ceased  to  be  ; 
But  she  is  in  her  grave,  and  oh, 

The  difference  to  me  ! 

—  The  Lost  Love  :   Wordsworth. 

In  connection  with  the  effect  of  unity,  and  as  one 
factor  of  it,  regularly  recurring  rhymes  also  impart  an 
effect  of  regularity  to  the  movement,  as  in  these : 

Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame, 
Quit,  oh,  quit  this  mortal  frame. 
Trembling,  hoping,  lingering,  flying, 
Oh,  the  pain,  the  bliss  of  dying  ! 

— Dying  Christian  to  his  Soul:  Pope. 

A  kind  and  gentle  heart  he  had, 

To  comfort  friends  and  foes  ; 
The  naked  every  day  he  clad, — 

When  he  put  on  his  clothes. 
— Elegy  on  the  Death  of  a  Mad  Dog  :  Goldsmith. 

Singing  through  the  forests  ; 

Rattling  over  ridges ; 
Shooting  under  arches  ; 

Rumbling  over  bridges ; 


122  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Whizzing  through  the  mountains  ; 

Buzzing  o'er  the  vale, — 
Bless  me,  this  is  pleasant, 

Riding  on  the  rail. 

— Railroad  Rhyme  :  Saxe. 

In  the  degree  in  which  the  rhymes  are  near  together, 
they  give  an  effect  of  rapidity  to  the  movement — not  so 
much  of  the  form,  as  in  short  quantity,  as  of  the  thought. 
It  has  been  said  that  the  rhyming  words  emphasize 
strongly  the  ideas  expressed  through  them.  They  con- 
vey the  impression,  therefore,  that  something  important 
has  been  said  ;  and  if  they  occur  frequently,  they  suggest 
that  many  important  things  have  been  said,  and  said  in 
a  short  time,  or — what  is  equivalent  to  this — that  the 
thought  in  the  poem  is  moving  on  rapidly,  an  effect  that 
could  not  be  produced  by  the  same  words  arranged  differ- 
ently. Of  course,  it  follows  that  the  nearer  together  the 
rhymes  are,  the  more  rapid  seems  to  be  the  movement. 
Compare  these  two  stanzas,  both  from  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
Eve  of  St.  John  : 

The  baron  returned  in  three  days'  space, 

And  his  looks  were  sad  and  sour, 
And  weary  was  his  courser's  pace, 

As  he  reached  his  rocky  tower. 

My  lady  each  night  sought  the  lonely  light 

That  burns  on  the  wild  Watchfold, 
For  from  height  to  height  the  beacons  bright 

Of  the  English  foemen  told. 

Perhaps  no  more  interesting  study  of  the  different 
effects  of  rhyme  that  have  just  been  mentioned  is  any- 
where afforded  than  in  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam.  In 
several  of  the  stanzas  of  this  poem  the  third  and  fourth 
lines  may  change  places  without  detriment  to  the  sense. 
But  if  this  change  be  made,  the  rhymes  at  the  ends  of  the 


RHYMES.  123 

first  and  fourth  lines  are  brought  nearer  together,  thus  in- 
creasing the  effect  of  rapidity  as  well  as  the  emphasis  at 
the  end  of  the  latter  line.  Moreover,  all  four  lines  are 
then  heard  at  regular  intervals,  thus  increasing  also  the 
effect  of  regularity.  The  consequence  is,  that  the  slow 
and  therefore  judicial,  the  unemphatic  and  therefore 
doubtful,  the  irregular  and  therefore  hesitating  impres- 
sion conveyed  by  the  thought  of  the  poem,  as  arranged  in 
its  present  form,  almost  disappears,  giving  place  to  the 
easy  and  even  flow  of  unwavering  assurance.  Those  who 
doubt  whether  poetic  sound  has  much  to  do  with  poetic 
representation,  may  learn  a  lesson  by  examining  the  fol- 
lowing stanzas  in  these  two  forms.  Read  these  first : 

Thou  wilt  not  leave  us  in  the  dust : 

Thou  madest  man  he  knows  not  why  ; 

He  thinks  he  was  not  made  to  die  ; 
And  thou  hast  made  him  :  thou  art  just. 

Thou  seemest  human  and  divine, 

The  highest,  holiest  manhood,  thou  : 

Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  hovr ; 
Our  wills  are  ours  to  make  them  thine. 

Our  little  systems  have  their  day  ; 

They  have  their  day  and  cease  to  be  : 

They  are  but  broken  lights  of  thee, 
And  thou,  O  Lord,  art  more  than  they. 

We  have  but  faith  :  we  cannot  know  : 

For  knowledge  is  of  things  we  see  ; 

And  yet  we  trust  it  comes  from  thee, 
A  beam  in  darkness  :  let  it  grow. 

And  now  read  these : 

Thou  wilt  not  leave  us  in  the  dust : 

Thou  madest  man  he  knows  not  why } 
And  thou  hast  made  him  :  thou  art  just : 

He  thinks  he  was  not  made  to  die. 


124  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Thou  seemest  human  and  divine, 

The  highest,  holiest  manhood,  thou  : 
Our  wills  are  ours  to  make  them  thine  ; 

Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how. 

Our  little  systems  have  their  day  ; 

They  have  their  day  and  cease  to  be  : 
And  thou,  O  Lord,  art  more  than  they  : 

They  are  but  broken  lights  of  thee. 

We  have  but  faith  ;  we  cannot  know, 

For  knowledge  is  of  things  we  see  ; 
A  beam  in  darkness  :   let  it  grow  ; 

And  yet  we  trust  it  comes  from  thee. 

Where  rhymes  are  used,  these  effects  of  unity,  regular- 
ity, and  rapidity  are  always  present  to  some  extent,  and 
all,  if  continued  too  long,  become  monotonous  and  tire- 
some, besides  being  unfitted  for  the  representation  of 
varying  moods  and  scenes.  Therefore,  for  long  produc- 
tions, poets  usually  prefer  blank-verse, — either  regular,  as 
in  Shakespear's  plays  and  the  "  Paradise  Lost  ";  e.g.: 

My  tongue  shall  hush  again  this  storm  of  war, 
And  make  fair  weather  in  your  blust'ring  land. 

— King  John,  v.,   I  :   Shakespear. 

or  irregular  or  broken,  as  in  Goethe's  Faust  and  Southey's 
Thalaba;  e.g.: 

How  beautiful  is  night ! 
A  dewy  freshness  fills  the  silent  air  ; 
No  mist  obscures,  nor  cloud  nor  speck  nor  stain 

Breaks  the  serene  of  heaven  : 
In  full-orbed  glory  yonder  moon  divine 
Rolls  through  the  dark  blue  depths. 

—  Thalaba,  I  :  Southey. 

Blank-verse,  in  a  sense  not  true  of  verse  that  rhymes, 
admits  of  irregular  accents ;  as,  for  instance,  in  the  follow- 
ing, in  which  only  the  last  line  is  absolutely  regular : 


RHYMES.  12$ 

Upon  our  sides  it  never  shall  be  broken. 
And  noble  Dolphin,  albeit  we  swear 
A  voluntary  zeal  and  an  unurged  faith 
To  your  proceedings,  yet  believe  me,  prince, 
I  am  not  glad  that  such  a  sore  of  time 
Should  seek  a  plaster  by  contemned  revolt. 

— King  John,  v.,  2  :  Shakespear. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  argue  that  verse  admitting  of 
changes  like  these  can  be  continued  almost  indefinitely 
without  becoming  monotonous,  and  can  be  used  in  de- 
scribing almost  all  possible  varieties  of  moods  and  scenes, 
without  ceasing  to  be  representative. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

ELOCUTIONARY  AND   POETIC   QUALITY. 

Quality  represents  the  Emotive  Nature  of  the  Soul  as  influencing  and  in- 
fluenced  by  both  Instinctive  and  Reflective  Tendencies — Kinds  of  Qual- 
j^  ity,  and  what  each  represents  in  Elocution — Letter-Sounds  used  in 
Verse  to  produce  Effects  of  the  Aspirate  Quality — Guttural — Pectoral — 
Pure — Orotund— Illustrations  of  Poetic  Effects  of  all  these  Kinds  when 
combined. 

HTHE  last  elocutionary  element,  the  influence  of  which 
upon  poetic  form  we  have  to  consider,  and  the  second 
that  has  to  do  with  the  tunes  of  verse,  is  quality ;  or,  as  it 
is  sometimes  called,  on  account  of  that  to  which  it  corre- 
sponds in  painting,  tone-color.  Its  different  varieties  are 
determined  by  the  relative  proportions  in  which  noise  and 
music  are  combined  in  them ;  or,  in  other  words,  by  the 
different  actions  of  the  organs  of  utterance  in  causing 
more  or  less  of  the  breath,  while  leaving  the  lungs,  to  be 
vocalized  and  rendered  resonant. 

What  different  kinds  of  quality  are  fitted  to  represent, 
it  needs  but  little  observation  to  discover.  It  certainly  is 
not  physical  energy.  When  Patti  passes  from  a  loud  to  a 
soft,  or  from  an  abrupt  to  a  smooth  tone,  she  changes 
greatly  the  kinds  of  energy,  but  her  voice  still  retains  the 
same  Patti-quality.  Nor  does  quality  represent  mere 
intellectuality.  A  man,  without  changing  in  the  least  an 
habitual  nasal  or  wheezing  quality,  may  give  every  inflec- 
tion needed  in  order  to  represent  the  merely  mental 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  QUALITY.  1 27 

phases  of  that  which  actuates  him.  But  if  we  frighten 
him  severely,  we  may  make  it  impossible  for  him  to  use 
any  other  sound  than  a  whisper  ;  if  in  connection  with  this, 
we  anger  him,  he  will  hiss;  or,  if  at  length  he  recovers  his 
voice,  he  will  use  the  harsh,  jarring,  interrupted  hard-^- 
quality  of  tone,  termed  the  guttural ;  or,  if  that  which  he 
would  repel  is  too  great  to  make  anger  appropriate,  it 
may  widen  and  stiffen  his  throat  so  as  to  produce  the  hol- 
low, almost  inarticulate  indication  of  awe  and  horror  given 
by  what  is  termed  the  pectoral  quality.  Release  him  now 
from  the  influence  of  affright,  anger,  or  horror,  and  put 
him  into  a  gently  satisfied  mood,  and  he  will  use  his  near- 
est approach  to  pure  quality.  Stir  him  then  toprofound 
emotion,  inspired  by  what  is  deeply  satisfying,  and  all  his 
vocal  passages  will  expand  again,  and  he  will  produce  his 
nearest  approach  to  the  full,  round,  resonant  quality 
termed  orotund. 

For  these  reasons,  it  seems  indisputable  that  quality 
represents  the  feelings,  the  temper,  the  spiritual  condition 
of  the  higher  emotive  nature, — what  I  have  termed  the 
soul,  by  which  is  meant,  as  needs  scarcely  be  said  again, 
the  principle  of  life  holding  body  and  mind  together,  influ- 
encing and  influenced  by  both.  The  soul  communicates 
with  the  external  world  never  wholly  through  the  in- 
stinctive nature,  nor  wholly  through  the  reflective,  but 
always  through  one  of  the  two  modified  by  its  connec- 
tion with  the  other.  The  quality  of  sound,  therefore, 
represents  the  quality  of  the  feeling  that  vivifies  the  soul. 
This  feeling,  on  its  physical  side,  and  with  its  most 
physical  coloring,  gives  us,  first,  the  serpent-like  hissing 
aspirate  ;  next,  with  an  intellectual  coloring  the  guttural 
quality  ;  and  last,  with  an  emotional  coloring,  the  pectoral. 
On  its  intellectual  side,  it  gives  us  first,  with  a  physical 


12%  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

coloring,  the  soft  whispering  aspirate  ;  next,  with  an  intel- 
lectual coloring,  the  pure  quality ;  and  last,  with  an 
emotional  coloring,  the  orotund.  Of  these  six  forms  of 
quality,  the  first  four  are  classed  in  a  general  way  as  im- 
pure, because  there  is  in  them  more  breath  or  noise  than 
vocal  tone  or  music  ;  and  the  last  two  are  classed  as  pure. 

The  first  three  again  refer  to  what  one  wishes  to  repel ; 
the  hissing  aspirate  indicating  feelings  like  affright,  amaze- 
ment, indignation,  and  contempt ;  the  guttural,  as  has  been 
said,  hostility  ;  and  the  pectoral,  awe  or  horror.  The  last 
three  refer  to  what,  if  not  wholly  satisfactory,  at  least,  ex- 
cites in  one  no  movement  aimed  against  it.  The  soft 
whisper  indicates  feelings  like  surprise,  interest,  or  solici- 
tude;  the  tone  termed  distinctively  the  pure  represents 
gentle  contemplation  of  what  may  be  either  joyous  or  sad ; 
and  the  orotund,  deep  delight,  admiration,  courage,  or  de- 
termination, as  inspired  by  contemplation  of  the  noble  or 
grand. 

All  these  different  qualities  can  be  given  by  good  elocu- 
tionists when  vocalizing  almost  any  of  the  consonants  or 
vowels ;  but  the  poet  for  his  effects  must  depend  upon 
the  sounds  necessarily  given  to  words  in  ordinary  pro- 
nunciation. For  instance,  certain  consonants,  called 
variously  aspirates,  sibilants,  or  atonies,  viz. :  h,  s,  z,  w,  sh, 
wh,  th,  p,  t,  f,  are  aspirate  in  themselves  ;  that  is,  we  are 
obliged  to  whisper  when  we  articulate  them.  Therefore 
in  poetic  effects,  considered  aside  from  those  that  are 
elocutionary,  the  aspirate  must  be  produced  by  using 
words  containing  some  of  these  consonants  ;  and,  if  it  be 
the  repellant  aspirate  or  the  hiss,  by  using  also  consonants 
giving  guttural  effects,  like^,/,  ch,  and  r.  Here,  for  in- 
stance, is  the  poetic  aspirate  of  amazement,  affright,  indig- 
nation, contempt. 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  QUALITY.  129 

Out  of  my  sight,  thou  serpent  ;  that  name  best 
Befits  thee  with  him  leagued,  thyself  as  false 
And  hateful ;  nothing  wants  but  that  thy  shape 
Like  his  and  color  serpentine  may  show 
Thy  inward  fraud. 

— Paradise  Lost,  10  :  Milton. 

What  's  the  business 

That  such  a  hideous  trumpet  calls  to  parley 
The  sleepers  of  the  house  ?  speak  !  speak  ! 

— Macbeth,  ii.,  I  :  Shakespear. 

You  souls  of  geese 

That  bear  the  shapes  of  men,  how  have  you  run 
From  slaves  that  apes  would  beat. 

— Coriolanus,  i.,  4  :  Shakespear. 

Ay,  in  the  catalogue  ye  go  for  men  ; 
As  hounds  and  greyhounds,  mongrels,  spaniels,  cursi 
Shoughs,  water-rugs,  and  demi-wolves  are  clep'd 
All  by  the  name  of  dogs. 

— Macbeth,  iii.,  i :  Shakespear. 

And  here  the  poetic  aspirate  of  surprise,  interest,  and 
solicitude. 

What  ?  keep  a  week  away  ?  seven  days  and  nights  ? 
Eightscore  eight  hours, — and  lover's  absent  hours, — 
More  tedious  than  the  dial  eightscore  times  ? 

— Othello,  iii.,  4:  Shakespear. 

The  red  rose  cries,  ' '  She  is  near,  she  is  near  "  ; 
And  the  white  rose  weeps,  ' '  She  is  late  "  ; 
The  larkspur  listens,  "  I  hear,  I  hear  "  ; 
And  the  lily  whispers,  "  I  wait." 

— Maud:   Tennyson. 

Jul. — Sweet,  so  would  I  ; 

Yet  I  should  kill  thee  with  much  cherishing. 

Good-night     good-night  ;  parting  is  such  sweet  sorrow,  f 

That  I  shall  say  good-night  till  it  be  morrow. 

Rom. — Sleep  dwell  upon  thine  eyes,  peace  in  thy  breast — 

Would  I  were  sleep  and  peace  so  sweet  to  rest. 

— Romeo  and  Juliet,  ii.,  2  :  Shakespear. 


1 30  POETRY  AS  A    REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  aspirated  sounds  do  not  depend  upon  the  use  of 
the  vowels.  But  this  is  not  true  of  the  other  qualities. 
In  the  poetic  guttural  and  pure  tones,  front  *  or  else  short 
vowel-sounds  like  those  in  the  words  pin,  met,  hat,  fur,  and 
far,  among  which  we  must  include  also  the  long  and  front  * 
ones  in  me  and  ale  usually  predominate.  In  the  poetic 
pectoral  and  orotund,  long  and  back*  vowel-sounds  like 
those  in  moor,  more,  cow,  boil,  all,  among  which  we  must 
include  the  short  but  back*  sound  of  u  in  but,  usually 
predominate.  Besides  this,  for  the  guttural,  certain  pala- 
tic  and  lingual  consonant-sounds,  like  those  of  g,  j,  k,  ch, 
r,  and,  at  times,  especially  when  used  in  combination  with 
other  consonants,  dental  and  labial  sounds,  like  those 
in  b,  d,  and  v,  are  essential.  Here  are  examples  of  the 
guttural  indicating,  as  has  been  said,  hostility. 

Thou  cream-faced  loon, 
Where  gottest  thou  that  goose  look  ? 

— Macbeth,  v.,  3  :  Shakespear. 

Despised  by  cowards  for  greater  cowardice, 
And  scorned  even  by  the  vicious  for  such  vices 
As  in  the  monstrous  grasp  of  their  conception 
Defy  all  codes. 

— Marino  Faliero,  r.,  3  :  Byron. 

But  the  churchmen  fain  would  kill  their  church, 
As  the  churches  have  killed  their  Christ. 

— Maud  :   Tennyson. 

Till  I,  with  as  fierce  an  anger,  spoke, 
And  he  struck  me,  madman,  over  the  face, 
Struck  me  before  the  languid  fool, 
Who  was  gaping  and  grinning  by. 

— Idem. 

The  elocutionary  pectoral,  with  its  hollow  tones,  always 
suggests  more  or  less  of  a  breathing  quality.  Therefore 
the  poetic  pectoral  requires,  in  addition  to  the  use  of  the 

*  See  page  97. 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  QUALITY.  13! 

long  and  back  *  vowel-sounds  like  those  of  long,  o,  oo,  ou, 
oi,  broad  a,  and  short  u,  that  of  the  aspirate  consonants 
like  h,  s,  z,  w,  sh,  wh,  th,  r,  p,  t,  /,  and  sometimes  b,  d, 
and  v.  Notice  the  preponderance  of  these  letters  in  all 
of  the  following  expressions  of  awe  or  horror  : 

For  a  charm  of  powerful  trouble, 
Like  a  hell-broth  boil  and  bubble. 
All. — Double,  double  toil  and  trouble  ; 

Fire  burn  and  cauldron  bubble. 
********* 

All. — Seek  to  know  no  more. 

Macb. — I  will  be  satisfied  :  deny  me  this, 

And  an  eternal  curse  fall  on  you  !     Let  me  know — 
********* 

\st  Witch.— Shew  ! 
zd  Witch.— Shew  ! 
3</  Witch.—  Shew  ! 
All. — Shew  his  eyes  and  grieve  his  heart ! 

Come  like  shadows,  so  depart. 
Macb. — Thou  art  too  like  the  spirit  of  Banquo  ;  down  ! 

Thy  crown  does  sear  mine  eyeballs  : — and  thy  hair 
Thou  other  gold-bound  brow,  is  like  the  first. 

— Macbeth,  iv.,   I  :   Shakespear. 

And  with  blood  for  dew,  the  bosom  boils  ; 

And  a  gust  of  sulphur  is  all  its  smell  ; 
And  lo,  he  is  horribly  in  the  toils 

Of  a  coal-black  giant  flower  of  hell. 

—  The  Heretic's  Tragedy  :  R.  Browning. 

So  wills  the  fierce  avenging  sprite, 

Till  blood  for  blood  atones. 
Ay,  though  he  's  buried  in  a  cave, 

And  trodden  down  with  stones, 
And  years  have  rotted  off  his  flesh, — 

The  world  shall  see  his  bones. 

—  The  Dream  of  Eugene  Aram  :  Hood. 

A  dungeon  horrible,  on  all  sides  round, 
As  one  great  furnace,  flamed  ;  yet  from  those  flames 
No  light  but  rather  darkness  visible, 
*  See  page  97. 


132  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Served  only  to  discover  sights  of  woe, 

Regions  of  sorrow,  doleful  shades,  where  peace 

And  rest  can  never  dwell,  hope  never  comes. 

— Paradise  Lost,  I  :  Milton. 

Ghastly  dethronement,  cursed  by  those  the  most 
On  whose  repugnant  brow  the  crown  next  falls. 

— Epilogue  :  ft.  Browning. 

Notice  the  rhymes,  too,  in  the  following : 

"  Dust  and  ashes."     So  you  creak  it,  and  I  want  the  heart  to  scold. 
Dear  dead  women,  with  such  hair,  too — what  's  become  of  all  the  gold 
Used  to  hang  and  brush  their  bosoms  ?     I  feel  chilly  and  grown  old. 

— A  Toccata  of  Galuppi's  :  R.  Browning. 

The  poetic  pure  tone  necessitates,  as  has  been  said,  the 
use  of  the  short  or  the  front  vowel-sounds.  In  connection 
with  these  almost  any  of  the  consonants,  except  the  gut- 
tural, may  be  used  to  any  extent.  Here  are  examples  of 
the  poetic  pure  quality,  representing,  as  already  intimated, 
gentle  contemplation  with  feelings,  not  too  strong,  of  what 
may  be  either  joyous  or  sad. 

All  night  merrily,  merrily, 

They  would  pelt  me  with  starry  spangles  and  shells, 
Laughing  and  clapping  their  hands  between, 

All  night  merrily,  merrily. 

—  The  Merman  :    Tennyson. 

She  sleeps  :  her  breathings  are  not  heard 

In  palace  chambers  far  apart. 
The  fragrant  tresses  are  not  stirred 

That  lie  upon  her  charmed  heart. 
She  sleeps  ;  on  either  hand  upswells 

The  gold-fringed  pillow  lightly  pressed. 
She  sleeps,  nor  dreams,  but  ever  dwells 

A  perfect  form  in  perfect  rest. 

—  The  Day  Dream  :   Tennyson. 

The  orotund,  as  contrasted  with  the  pure  tone,  has  a 
slightly  husky  as  well  as  hollow  effect.  Therefore  its 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  QUALITY.  133 

poetic  form  necessitates,  besides  the  use  of  the  long  and 
back  vowels,  that  of  the  subvowels  or  subtonics,  like  m,  n, 
ng,  I,  b,  d,  and  v.  Here  are  examples  of  the  poetic  orotund, 
indicating  any  thing,  not  provoking,  which  stirs  one  to 
deep  feeling,  or,  as  was  stated  before,  to  deep  delight,  admi- 
ration, courage,  or  determination,  as  inspired  by  contem- 
plation of  the  noble  or  grand. 

"  Glory  to  God,"  unnumbered  voices  sung  ; 
"  Glory  to  God,"  the  vales  and  mountains  rung  ; 
Voices  that  hailed  creation's  primal  morn, 
And  to  the  shepherds  sung  a  Saviour  born. 
Slowly,  bare-headed  through  the  surf  we  bore 
The  sacred  cross,  and  kneeling  kissed  the  shore. 

—  Voyage  of  Columbus  :  Rogers. 

Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent 
Made  glorious  summer  by  this  son  of  York, 
And  all  the  clouds  that  lowered  upon  our  house 
In  the  deep  bosom  of  the  ocean  buried. 

— Richard  III.,  i.,  I  :  Shakespear. 

Daughter  of  Faith,  awake,  arise,  illume 
The  dread  unknown,  the  chaos  of  the  tomb, 
Melt  and  dispel,  ye  spectre-doubts,  that  roll 
Cimmerian  darkness  o'er  the  parting  soul. 
Fly,  like  the  moon-eyed  herald  of  Dismay, 
Chased  on  his  night-steed  by  the  star  of  day. 
The  strife  is  o'er — the  pangs  of  nature  close, 
And  life's  last  rapture  triumphs  o'er  her  woes. 

—Pleasures  of  Hope  :  Campbell. 

Peace  and  order  and  beauty  draw 
Round  thy  symbol  of  light  and  law. 

—Barbara  Frietchie  :  Whittier. 

All  the  more  impure  qualities — the  hiss,  the  guttural, 
and  the  pectoral — represent  allied  emotions.  Therefore, 
in  elocution,  there  is  a  tendency  to  combine  their  effects. 
It  is  the  same  in  poetry.  Notice  the  following : 


1 34  POE  TRY  AS  A   REPRESENTA  T2VE  AR  T. 

See  with  what  heat  these  dogs  of  hell  advance 
To  waste  and  havoc  yonder  world. 

******* 

And  know  not  that  I  call'd  and  drew  them  thither, 

My  hell-hounds,  to  lick  up  the  draff  and  filth, 

Which  man's  polluting  sin  with  taint  hath  shed 

On  what  was  pure  !  till,  cramm'd  and  gorg'd,  nigh  burst 

With  suck'd  and  glutted  offal,  at  one  sling 

Of  thy  victorious  arm,  well-pleasing  Son, 

Both  Sin  and  Death  and  yawning  Grave,  at  last 

Through  Chaos  hurled,  obstruct  the  mouth  of  hell 

Forever,  and  seal  up  his  ravenous  jaws. 

— Paradise  Lostt  10  :  Milton. 

Fret  till  your  proud  heart  breaks  ; 
Go  show  your  slaves  how  choleric  you  are, 
And  make  your  bondmen  tremble.     Must  I  budge  ? 
Must  I  observe  you  ?    Must  I  stand  and  crouch 
Under  your  testy  humor  ?     By'  the  gods, 
You  shall  digest  the  venom  of  your  spleen 
Tho*  it  do  split  you  ;  for  from  this  day  forth 
I  '11  use  you  for  my  mirth — yea,  for  my  laughter — 
When  you  are  waspish. 

— Julius  C&sar,  iv.,  3  :  Shakespear. 

So,  too,  the  poetic  pure  and  orotund  naturally  go  to- 
gether ;  for  example : 

For  though  the  giant  ages  heave  the  hill 

And  break  the  shore,  and  evermore 

Make  and  break  and  work  their  will ; 

Though  worlds  on  worlds  in  myriad  myriads  roll 

Round  us,  each  with  different  powers 

And  other  forms  of  life  than  ours, 

What  know  we  greater  than  the  soul  ? 

On  God  and  godlike  men  we  build  our  trust. 

— Ode  on  Duke  of  Wellington  :  Tennyson. 

Much  of  the  representative  beauty  of  poetry  depends 
on  a  judicious  alternation  of  these  different  qualities  of 
sound.  Notice  this  fact  as  exemplified  in  the  last  three 


ELOCUTIONARY  AND  POETIC  QUALITY.  135 

quotations,  as  well  as  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  lines  of  the 
following,  where  the  poetic  orotund  is  introduced  in  the 
midst  of  an  aspirate  passage  : 

The  bright  sun  rises  to  his  course,  and  lights 
A  race  of  slaves.     He  sets,  and  his  last  beams 
Fall  on  a  slave  ;  not  such  as  swept  along 
By  the  full  tide  of  power,  the  conqueror  leads 
To  crimson  glory  and  undying  fame  ; 
But  base  ignoble  slaves  ;  slaves  to  a  horde 
Of  petty  tyrants,  feudal  despots,  lords 
Rich  in  some  dozen  paltry  villages, 
Strong  in  some  hundred  spearmen,  only  great 
In  that  strange  spell — a  name. 

— Rienzi's  Address  to  Romans  :  Mitford. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

EFFECTS   OF  POETIC   QUALITY   CONTINUED. 

Imitative  Effects  of  Letter-Sounds  corresponding  to  Aspirate  Quality,  rep- 
resenting  Serpents,  Sighing,  Rapidity,  Winds,  Slumber,  Conspiracy, 
Fear,  Frightening,  Checking — Guttural  Quality,  representing  Grating, 
Forcing,  Flowing  Water,  Rattling,,  Effort — Pectoral  Quality,  repre- 
senting Groaning,  Depth,  Hollowness — Pure  Quality,  representing 
Thinness,  Clearness,  Sharpness,  Cutting — Orotund  Quality,  repre- 
senting Fulness,  Roundness,  Murmuring,  Humming,  Denying,  etc. — 
These  Effects  as  combined  in  Various  Illustrations  of  Carving  ;  Dash- 
ing, Rippling,  and  Lapping  Water  ;  Roaring  ;  Clashing  ;  Cursing  ; 
Shrieking  ;  Fluttering  ;  Crawling  ;  Confusion  ;  Horror  ;  Spite  ;  Scorn  ; 
etc. 

T  ET  us  turn  now  to  poetic  effects  produced  by  quality 
corresponding  to  those  of  dramatic,  as  distinguished 
from  discoursive,  elocution  ;  and  first  to  the  aspirate.  In 
poetry,  as  in  elocution,  the  repellant  aspirate  imitates  any 
thing  that  hisses ;  for  example  : 

He  would  have  spoke, 

But  hiss  for  hiss  returned  with  forked  tongue 
To  forked  tongue  ;  for  now  were  all  transformed 
Alike,  to  serpents  all  as  accessories 
To  his  bold  riot  :  dreadful  was  the  din 
Of  hissing  through  the  hall,  thick  swarming  now 
With  complicated  monsters,  head  and  tail, 
Scorpion  and  asp,  and  amphisbsena  dire, 
Cerastes  horn'd,  hydrus,  and  ellops  drear, 
And  dipsas  ;  not  so  thick  swarmed  once  the  soil 
Bedropped  with  blood  of  Gorgon,  or  the  isle 

Ophiusa. 

— Paradise  Lost,  10 :  Milton. 

136 


IMITATIVE  EFFECTS  OF  LETTER-SOUNDS.        137 

The  acquiescent  aspirate  imitates  any  thing  that  sighs; 
for  example : 

She  gave  me  for  my  pains  a  world  of  sighs  ; 

She  swore. — In  faith  't  was  strange,  't  was  passing  strange, 

'T  was  pitiful,  't  was  wondrous  pitiful ; 

She  wish'd  she  had  not  heard  it ;  yet  she  wish'd 

That  heaven  had  made  her  such  a  man. 

— Othello,  i.,  3  :  Shakespear. 

But  it  is  possible  to  go  still  more  into  detail  than  this. 
As  Guest  has  pointed  out  in  his  "  History  of  English 
Rhythms,"  developing  for  that  purpose  a  suggestion  made 
by  Bacon,  certain  letters  and  combinations  of  them  seem 
especially  adapted  for  the  imitation  of  certain  specific 
operations.  Things,  for  instance,  that  fly  rapidly,  make 
sounds  resembling  those  of  the  sibilants.  Hence  the  ap- 
propriateness of  the  following : 

How  quick  they  wheeled,  and  flying  behind  them  shot 
Sharp  sleet  of  arrowy  showers  against  the  face 
Of  their  pursuers. 

— Paradise  Reg.t  3  :  Milton. 

Brushed  with  the  hiss  of  rustling  wings.     As  bees 
In  spring-time. 

— Paradise  Lost,  I :  Idem. 

The  winds  make  similar  sounds  : 

The  breezy  call  of  incense-breathing  morn. 

—Elegy:  Gray. 

By  whispering  winds  soon  lulled  asleep. 

— V Allegro  :  Milton. 

So  do  nurses,  fountains,  and  sea-waves,  when  lulling  one 
to  sleep  : 

O  Sleep,  O  gentle  Sleep, 

Nature's  soft  nurse,  how  have  I  frightened  thee 
That  thou  no  more  wilt  weigh  mine  eyelids  down, 
And  steep  my  senses  in  forgetfulness  ? 
Why  rather,  Sleep,  liest  thou  in  smoky  cribs, 
Upon  uneasy  pallets  stretching  thee, 


138  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

And  hushed  with  buzzing  night-flies  to  thy  slumber  ; 
Than  in  the  perfumed  chambers  of  the  great, 
Under  the  canopies  of  costly  state, 
And  lulled  with  sound  of  sweetest  melody. 

— 2  Henry  IV. ,  iii.,  I  :  Shakespear. 

In  the  following  we  seem  to  hear  the  whisperings  of 
conspirators  : 

Who  rather  had, 

Though  they  themselves  did  suffer  by  it,  behold 
Dissentious  numbers  pestering  streets,  than  see 
Our  tradesmen  singing  in  their  shops  and  going 
About  their  functions  friendly. 

— Cariolanus,  iv.,  6  :  Shakesptar. 

And  here  the  whisperings  of  fear  : 

A  hideous  giant,  horrible  and  high. 

— Faerie  Queene,  I,  7,  8 :  Spenser. 

Fit  vessel,  fittest  imp  of  fraud,  in  whom 
To  enter  and  his  dark  suggestions  hide. 

— Paradise  Lost,  9  :  Milton. 

When  we  wish  to  frighten  a  bird  or  animal,  we  often 
make  a  prolonged  sound  of  s,  and  then  stop  it  suddenly 
with  the  sound  of  /.  Now,  look  at  the  use  of  st  in  the 
following  to  indicate  motion  that  is  checked  by  being 
frightened  : 

Stern  were  their  looks  like  wild  amazed  steers, 
Staring  with  hollow  eyes  and  stiff  upstanding  hairs. 

— Faerie  Queene,  2,  9,  13  :  Spenser. 

With  staring  countenance  stern,  as  one  astown'd, 
And  staggering  steps,  to  weet  what  sudden  stour 
Had  wrought  that  horror  strange. 

— Idem,  I,  8,  5. 

But  she  fast  stood. 

Pallas  had  put  a  boldness  in  her  breast 
And  in  her  fair  limbs  tender  fear  compressed, 

And  still  she  stood. 

— Chapman's  Tr.,  Odyssey. 


IMITATIVE  EFFECTS  OF  LETTER-SOUNDS.         139 

Though  death-struck,  still  his  feeble  frame  he  rears  ; 
Staggering,  but  stemming  all,  his  lord  unharmed  he  bears. 

—Childe  Harold,  I  :  Byron, 

P  and  /,  because  their  sounds  cannot  be  prolonged,  as 
well  as  d,  when  pronounced  like  t,  have  also  the  effect  of 
representing  the  stopping  of  movement ;  e.  g.  : 

Sudden  he  stops  ;  his  eye  is  fixed  :  away, 
Away  thou  heedless  boy  !  prepare  the  spear : 

Now  is  thy  time  to  perish  or  display 

The  skill  that  yet  may  check  his  mad  career. 

— Idem. 

If  thou  more  murmur'st,  I  will  rend  an  oak, 
And  peg  thee  in  his  knotty  entrails,  till 
Thou  hast  howled  away  twelve  winters. 

—  Tempest,  i.,  2  :  Shakespear. 

The  poetic  guttural  imitates  any  thing  \h&  grates  ;  for 
example : 

How  the  garden  grudged  me  grass 

Where  I  stood — the  iron  gate 
Ground  his  teeth  to  let  me  pass. 

— A  Serenade  at  the  Villa  :  R.  Browning. 

Besides  this,  it  is  well  to  notice  that  the  chief  guttural 
consonants,  g,  /,  k,  and  ch,  are  all  made  as  a  result  of 
effort,  and,  more  than  this,  of  effort  that  is  internal  in 
the  sense  of  not  being  outwardly  visible.  They  are  pro- 
duced by  forcing  the  tongue  against  the  palate,  and  the 
breath  between  the  two.  For  this  reason  they  seem  to 
be  recognized  as  appropriate  for  the  representation  of 
effort,  especially  of  effort  that  is  internal ;  for  example : 

Caitiff,  to  pieces  shake, 
That  under  covert  and  convenient  seeming 
Hast  practised  on  man's  life.     Close  pent-up  guilts, 
Rive  your  concealing  continents,  and  cry 
These  dreadful  summoners  grace. — I  am  a  man. 

— King  Lear,  iii. ,  2  :  Shakespear. 


I4O  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Thou,  trumpet,  there  's  my  purse, 
Now  crack  thy  lungs,  and  split  thy  brazen  pipe  : 
Blow,  villain,  till  thy  sphered  bias  cheek 
Out-swell  the  colic  of  puff'd  Aquilon  ; 
Come  stretch  thy  chest. 

—  Troilus  and  Cressida,  iv. ,  5  :  Shakespear, 

This  last  quotation  suggests  that  not  only  the  chief 
guttural  consonants,  but  b  and  p  also,  though  in  a  less 
degree,  may  represent  effort.  This  will  not  seem  strange 
from  our  present  point  of  view,  when  we  notice  that  they 
are  both  produced  by  compressing  the  lips  precisely  as  we 
do  when  we  are  making  a  strong  muscular  exertion  : 

And  him  beside  sits  ugly  Barbarism, 
And  brutish  Ignorance,  ycrept  of  late 
Out  of  dred  darkness  of  the  deep  Abysme, 
Where  being  bred  he  light  and  heaven  does  hate. 

—  Tears  of  the  Muses  :  Spenser. 

Behemoth,  biggest  born  of  earth. 

—Par.  Lost,  7  :  Milton. 

His  bursting  passion  into  plaints  thus  poured. 

— Idem,  9. 

Their  broad  bare  backs  upheave 
Into  the  clouds. 

— Idem,  7. 

L  and  r,  like  the  other  consonants  just  mentioned,  are 
formed  by  interrupting  the  flow  of  the  breath  ;  but  in 
these  it  is  not  checked  even  for  a  moment,  but  passes 
outward  at  either  side  of  the  tongue.  Both,  therefore, 
are  felt  to  be  appropriate  for  imitating  sounds  of  flowing 
waters  or  liquids •,  or  other  objects  having  this  motion ; 
for  example : 

For  a  charm  of  powerful  trouble, 
Like  a  hell-broth  boil  and  bubble. 
Double,  double  toil  and  trouble, 
Fire  burn,  and  cauldron  bubble. 

— Macbeth,  iv.,  I  :  Shakespear. 


IMITATIVE  EFFECTS  OF  LETTER-SOUNDS.        141 

Some  of  serpent  kind, 

Wondrous  in  length  and  corpulence,  involved 
Their  snaky  folds. 

— Par.  Lost,  ^  :  Milton. 

The  crisped  brooks 

Rolling  on  orient  pearl  and  sands  of  gold. 
******* 
Pour'd  forth  profuse  on  hill  and  dale  and  plain. 

—4,  Idem. 

O'er  which  the  mantling  vine 
Lays  forth  her  purple  grape,  and  gently  creeps 
Luxuriant,  meanwhile  murmuring  waters  fall 
Down  the  slope  hills  dispersed  or  in  a  lake. 

— Idem. 

R  has  a  sound  both  harsher  and  higher  than  /,  and  is 
better  adapted,  therefore,  for  imitating  grating  and  rat- 
tling noises  ;  e.  g.  : 

Such  bursts  of  horrid  thunder, 

Such  groans  of  roaring  wind  and  rain,  I  never 

Remember  to  have  heard. 

— Lear,  iii.,  2  :  Shakespear. 

for  this  day  will  pour  down, 

If  I  conjecture  aught,  no  drizzling  shower, 
But  rattling  storm  of  arrows  barb'd  with  fire. 

— Par.  Lost,  6  :  Milton. 

The  brazen  throat  of  war  had  ceased  to  roar. 

— Idem,  II. 

And  the  villainous  saltpetre 
Rung  a  fierce  discordant  metre 
Round  their  ears. 

—  The  Old  Continentals  :  Me  Master. 

And  frighted  waves  rush  wildly  back 
Before  the  broadside's  reeling  rack. 

—  The  American  Flag  :  Drake. 


142  POETRY  AS  A  REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

L  and  r,  too,  in  combination  with  gt  k,  /,  b,  st,  and 
some  other  consonants,  increase  the  effect  of  the  noise 
made  by  stoppage  in  the  flow  of  the  articulating  breath ; 
and  so  they  also  represent  difficulty  or  effort ;  for  example : 

Staring  full  ghastly  like  a  strangled  man  ; 

His  hair  upreared,  his  nostrils  stretched  with  struggling  ; 

His  hands  abroad  displayed,  as  one  that  grasp'd 

And  tugg'd  for  life,  and  was  by  strength  subdued. 

Look  !  on  the  sheets  his  hair,  you  see,  is  sticking  ; 

His  well-proportioned  beard  made  rough  and  rugged. 

— 2  Henry  VI.,  iii.,  2  :  Shakespear. 

The  poetic  pectoral  imitates  any  thing  that  groans ;  for 
example : 

Oh,  horror,  horror,  horror. — Tongue  nor  heart 
Cannot  conceive  nor  name  thee. 

— Macbeth,  ii.,  I  :   Shakespear. 

So  all  deep,  hollow  sounds  are  supposed  to  be  imitated, 
and,  as  we  found  when  considering  pitch,  really  are  imi- 
tated by  this  class  of  vowels : 

All  these  and  thousand  thousands  many  more, 
And  more  deformed  monsters  thousand-fold, 
With  dreadful  noise  and  hollow  rombling  roar, 
Came  rushing. 

— F.  Q.,  2,  12,  25  :  Spenser. 

A  dreadful  sound 
Which  through  the  woods  loud  bellowing  did  rebound. 

— Idem,  i,  7,  7. 

So  high  as  heav'd  the  tumid  hills,  so  low 
Down  sunk  a  hollow  bottom,  broad  and  deep. 

— Par.  Lost,  7  :  Milton. 

Hell  at  last 
Yawning  received  them  whole  and  on  them  closed. 

— Idem,  6. 

The  poetic  pure  tones  imitate  any  thing  that  sounds 
thin  and  clear  ;  for  example  : 


IMITATIVE  EFFECTS  OF  LETTER-SOUNDS.         143 

Hear  the  sledges  with  the  bells,  silver  bells — 

What  a  world  of  merriment  their  melody  fortells  ? 

How  they  tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle  in  the  icy  air  of  night, 

While  the  stars  that  oversprinkle  all  the  heavens  seem  to  twinkle 

With  a  crystalline  delight. 

—  The  Bells  :  Foe. 

The  vowels  used  in  pure  quality,  especially  e  both 
short  and  long,  and  these  especially  when  combined 
with  the  sibilants  and  the  whispering  consonants,  /,  t,  and 
ft  produce  an  effect  which  some  recognized  to  be  imita- 
tive of  any  thing  sharp  and  cutting ;  for  example  : 

What  's  this  ?  a  sleeve  ?    'T  is  like  a  demi-cannon  ; 
What  !  up  and  down,  carved  like  an  apple-tart  ? 
Here  's  snip  and  nip,  and  cut  and  slish  and  slash. 
Like  to  a  censor  in  a  barber's  shop. 

—  Taming  the  Shrew,  iv.,  3  :  Shakespear. 

And  thou  hast  talked 
Of  sallies  and  retires  ;  of  trenches,  tents, 
Of  palisadoes,  frontiers,  parapets  ; 
Of  basilisks,  of  cannon,  culverin  ; 
Of  prisoners'  ransom,  and  of  soldiers  slain, 
And  all  the  current  of  a  heady  fight. 

— i  Henry  IV. ,  ii.,  3  :  Shakespear^ 

The  clouds  were  fled 

Driven  by  a  keen  north  wind  that  blowing  dry 
Wrinkled  the  face  of  deluge. 

— Par.  Lost,  n  :  Milton* 

The  whistler  shrill  that  whoso  hears  doth  die. 

— F.  Q.,  z,  12,  36  :  Spenser. 

And  at  the  point  two  stings  infixed  are, 
Both  deadly  sharp,  that  sharpest  steel  exceeden  far. 
But  stings  and  sharpest  steel  did  far  exceed 
The  sharpness  of  his  cruel  rending  claws. 

— F.  Q.t  i,  ii,  ii  :  Spenser. 

The  poetic  orotund  imitates  any  thing  that  sounds  full 
and  round.  It  is  admirably  alternated  with  pure  quality 
in  the  following : 


144  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  old  song  sounds  hollower  in  mine  ear 

Than  thin  keen  sounds  of  dead  men's  speech — 

A  noise  one  hears  and  would  not  hear  ; 
Too  strong  to  die,  too  weak  to  reach 
From  wave  to  beach. 

— Felise  :  Swinburne. 

In  connection  mainly  with  the  more  orotund  vowels, 
m,  n,  and  ng  always,  and  b,  d,  vy  and  /,  when  their  pre- 
liminary sounds  are  prolonged,  produce  tones  resembling 
the  low  notes  of  musical  instruments,  or  the  murmur  or 
hum  of  insects,  men,  or  other  objects  moving  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  for  example : 

Married  to  immortal  verse  ; 
Such  as  the  meeting  soul  may  pierce, 
In  notes  with  many  a  winding  bout 
Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out, 
With  wanton  heed  and  giddy  cunning  ; 
The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running, 
Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony. 

—I:  Allegro:  Milton. 

— Every  sound  is  sweet ; 

Myriads  of  rivulets  hurrying  through  the  lawn, 
The  moan  of  doves  in  immemorial  elms, 
And  murmuring  of  innumerable  bees. 

—  The  Princess  :   Tennyson. 

Sweet  bird,  that  shun'st  the  noise  of  folly, 
Most  musical,  most  melancholy. 

— //  Pensero  :  Milton. 

The  bum-cock  humm'd  wi'  lazy  drone, 
The  kye  stood  rowtin*  i'  the  loan. 

—  The  Two.  Dogs  :  Burns. 

Where  each  old  poetic  mountain 
Inspiration  breathed  around, 
Every  shade  and  hallowed  fountain 
Murmured  deep  a  solemn  sound. 

—  The  Progress  of  Poesy  :  Gray. 

In  his  "  Expression  of  the  Emotions,"  Darwin  taking 


IMITATIVE  EFFECTS  OF  LETTER-SOUNDS.         145 

a  suggestion  from  Wedgeworth's  "Origin  of  Language," 
surmises  that  sounds  of  m  and  n  found  in  negations  like 
nay  and  no  may  be  traced  to  the  noises  made  by  children 
when  refusing  food.  In  our  own  language,  as  in  most 
others,  the  n  especially  seems  to  have  this  negative  effect. 

To  whom  our  Saviour  sagely  thus  replied  : 

"  Think  not  but  that  I  know  these  things,  or  think 

I  know  them  not :  nor  therefore  am  I  short 

Of  knowing  what  I  ought ;  he  who  receives 

Light  from  above,  from  the  fountain  of  light, 

No  other  doctrine  needs,  though  granted  true  ; 

But  these  are  false,  or  little  else  but  dreams, 

Conjectures,  fancies  built  on  nothing  firm, 

The  first  and  wisest  of  them  all  professed 

To  know  this  only,  that  he  nothing  knew." 

— Paradise  Reg.,  4  :  Milton. 

Fear  naught — nay  that  I  need  not  say — 
But  doubt  not  aught  from  mine  array. 

***** 
Nor  would  I  call  a  clansman's  brand 
For  aid  against  one  valiant  hand. 

—Lady  of  Lake,  5  :  Scott. 

The  hand  of  Douglas  is  his  own, 
And  never  shall  in  friendly  grasp 
The  hand  of  such  as  Marmion  clasp. 

— Marmion,  6  :  Idem. 

By  combining  the  sounds  of  consonants  and  vowels  in 
fulfilment  of  the  principles  just  mentioned,  or  of  others 
like  them,  all  of  our  best  poets  are  constantly  producing 
effects  that  are  distinctively  imitative.  For  instance,  hear 
the  knife  carving  the  ivory  in  this : 

Ancient  rosaries, 
Laborious  orient  ivory,  sphere  in  sphere. 

—  The  Princess  :  Tennyson. 

And  the  loud  dashing  and  soft  rippling  of  the  waves  in 
these : 


146  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Roared  as  when  the  rolling  breakers  boom  and  blanch  on  the  precipices. 

— Boadicea  :  Idem. 

The  murm'ring  surge 
That  on  the  unnumber'd  idle  pebbles  chafes. 

— Lear,  iv.,  6  :  Shakespear. 

And  the  ice  and  rocks,  resounding  with  the  clanging  of 
armor  and  footsteps  in  this : 

Dry  clashed  his  harness  in  the  icy  caves 
And  barren  chasms,  and  all  to  left  and  right 
The  bare  black  cliff  clanged  round  him  as  he  based 
His  feet  on  juts  of  slipp'ry  crag  that  rang 
Sharp  smitten  with  the  dint  of  armed  heels. 

— MortU  Arthur:   Tennyson. 

And  the  roar  and  clash  and  speed  of  warriors  and  their 
chariots  and  weapons  in  this : 

nor  stood  at  gaze 

The  adverse  legions,  nor  less  hideous  joined 
The  horrid  shock.     Now  storming  fury  rose 
And  clamor,  such  as  heard  in  heaven  till  now 
Was  never  j  arms  on  armor  clashing  bray'd 
Horrible  discord,  and  the  madding  wheels 
Of  brazen  chariots  raged  ;  dire  was  the  noise 
Of  conflict  ;  overhead  the  dismal  hiss 
Of  fiery  darts  in  flaming  vollies  flew, 
And  flying  vaulted  either  host  with  fire. 

— Paradise  Lost,  6  :  Milton. 

And  the  smooth  water,  lapping  the  body  of  the  swim- 
mer in  this : 

And  softlier  swimming  with  raised  head 
Feels  the  full  flower  of  morning  shed, 
And  fluent  sunrise  round  him  rolled, 
That  laps  and  laves  his  body  bold 
With  fluctuant  heaven  in  water's  stead, 
And  urgent  through  the  growing  gold 
Strikes,  and  sees  all  the  spray  flash  red. 

— Epilogue:  Swinburne. 


IMITATIVE  EFFECTS  OF  LETTER-SOUNDS.         147 

And  the  cursing  and  shrieking,  fluttering,  crawling,  and 
generally  appalling  character  of  this : 

— and  then  again 

With  curses  cast  them  down  upon  the  dust, 
And  gnashed  their  teeth  and  howled  ;  the  wild  birds  shriek'd 
And  terrified  did  flutter  on  the  ground, 
And  flap  their  useless  wings  ;  the  wildest  brutes 
Came  tame  and  tremulous  ;  and  vipers  crawled 
And  twined  themselves  among  the  multitude, 
Hissing  but  stingless — they  were  slain  for  food  ; 
And  War  which  for  a  moment  was  no  more, 
Did  glut  himself  again  ; — a  meal  was  bought 
With  blood,  and  each  sate  sullenly  apart 
Gorging  himself  in  gloom  ;  no  love  was  left. 

— Darkness  :  Byron. 

And  the  climax  of  confusion,  overthrow,  and  horror  in 
almost  every  form,  in  this : 

The  overthrown  he  raised,  and  as  a  herd 

Of  goats  or  timorous  flock  together  thronged 

Drove  them  before  him  thunderstruck,  pursued 

With  terror  and  with  furies  to  the  bounds 

And  crystal  wall  of  heaven,  which  opening  wide 

Rolled  inward,  and  a  spacious  gap  disclosed 

Into  the  wasteful  deep  ;  the  monstrous  sight 

Struck  them  with  horrow  backward  ;  but  far  worse 

Urged  them  behind  ;  headlong  themselves  they  threw 

Down  from  the  verge  of  heaven,  eternal  wrath 

Burned  after  them  to  the  bottomless  pit. 

Hell  heard  th'  insufferable  noise,  hell  saw 

Heaven  ruining  from  heaven,  and  would  have  fled 

Affrighted,  but  strict  fate  had  cast  too  deep 

Her  dark  foundations,  and  too  fast  had  bound. 

Nine  days  they  fell  ;  confounded  Chaos  roared, 

And  felt  tenfold  confusion  in  their  fall 

Through  his  wild  anarchy  ;  so  huge  a  rout 

Incumber'd  him  with  ruin  ;  hell  at  last 

Yawning  received  them  whole,  and  on  them  closed, 

Hell  their  fit  habitation,  fraught  with  fire 

Unquenchable,  the  house  of  woe  and  pain. 

— P.  L.,  6  :  Milton. 


148  POETRY  AS  A  REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

In  certain  poems,  as  in  fact  in  certain  of  the  quotations 
already  given,  it  is  difficult  to  determine  how  far  the 
effects  correspond  to  those  of  dramatic  or  of  discoursive 
elocution.  We  cannot  clearly  distinguish  in  them  between 
that  which  is  and  is  not  strictly  imitative.  One  of  the 
finest  examples  of  this  kind  which  we  have,  is  furnished 
by  Robert  Browning's  Holy-Cross-Day ',  purporting  to 
represent  the  feelings  of  the  Jews  in  Rome,  when  forced, 
as  was  formerly  the  custom  on  that  day,  to  attend 
church,  and  listen  to  an  annual  Christian  sermon.  Notice 
the  concentrated  spite  and  scorn  represented  in  the  quali- 
ties— mainly  guttural  and  aspirate — of  most  of  the  sounds 
used.  Only  a  part  of  the  poem  can  be  quoted ;  but  the 
rest  of  it  is  almost  equally  effective  : 

Higgledy  piggledy,  packed  we  lie, 
Rats  in  a  hamper,  swine  in  a  stye, 
Wasps  in  a  bottle,  frogs  in  a  sieve, 
Worms  in  a  carcass,  fleas  in  a  sleeve. 
Hist !  square  shoulders,  settle  your  thumbs 
And  buzz  for  the  bishop — here  he  comes. 

****** 
Aaron  's  asleep — shove  hip  to  haunch, 
Or  somebody  deal  him  a  dig  in  the  paunch. 
Look  at  the  purse,  with  the  tassel  and  knob, 
And  the  gown  with  the  angel  and  thingumbob. 
What 's  he  at,  quotha  ? — reading  his  text. 
Now  you  've  his  courtesy — and  what  comes  next  ? 

****** 
Give  your  first  groan — compunction  's  at  work  ; 
And  soft,  from  a  Jew  you  mount  to  a  Turk  ! 
Lo,  Micah, — the  self-same  beard  on  chin 
He  was  four  times  already  converted  in. 
Here 's  a  knife,  clip  quick — it 's  a  sign  of  grace — 
Or  he  ruins  us  all  with  his  hanging-face. 

****** 
Groan  all  together,  now,  whee-hee-hee  ! 
It 's  a  work,  it 's  a  work,  ah,  woe  is  me  I 


IMITATIVE  EFFECTS  OF  LETTER-SOUNDS.         149 

It  began  when  a  herd  of  us,  picked  and  placed, 
Were  spurred  through  the  Corso,  stripped  to  the  waist ; 
Jew-brutes,  with  sweat  and  blood  well  spent 
To  usher  in  worthily  Christian  Lent. 

It  grew,  when  the  hangman  entered  our  bounds, 

Yelled,  pricked  us  out  to  this  church,  like  hounds. 

It  got  to  a  pitch  when  the  hand  indeed 

Which  gutted  my  purse  would  throttle  my  creed. 

And  it  overflows,  when,  to  even  the  odd, 

Men  I  helped  to  their  sins,  help  me  to  their  God. 

— Holy-Cross-Day  :  R.  Browning. 

In  the  following,  too,  we  have  similar  effects,  partly 
imitative  and  partly  not.  In  the  last  two  lines  of  each 
stanza,  calling  for  the  echo,  we  hear  the  resonant  poetic 
orotund.  Aside  from  these,  the  poem  begins  in  the  first 
stanza  with  the  hush  of  the  aspirate  : 

The  splendor  falls  on  castle  walls 

And  snowy  summits  old  in  story  ; 
The  long  light  shakes  across  the  lakes, 

And  the  wild  cataract  leaps  in  glory. 
Blow,  bugle,  blow,  set  the  wild  echoes  flying. 
Blow,  bugle  ;  answer  echoes,  dying,  dying,  dying. 

Then  we  have  mainly  the  thin,  clear  quality  of  the  pure 
tone : 

O  hark,  O  hear  !  how  th:n  and  clear, 

And  thinner,  clearer,  farther  going  ; 
O  sweet  and  far,  from  cliff  and  scar, 

The  horns  of  Elfland  faintly  blowing  ! 
Blow,  let  us  hear  the  purple  glens  replying  ; 
Blow,  bugle  ;  answer  echoes,  dying,  dying,  dying. 

And,  lastly,  the  deeper  feeling  indicated  by  the  orotund : 

O  love,  they  die  in  yon  rich  sky, 

They  faint  on  hill  or  field  or  river  ; 
Our  echoes  roll  from  soul  to  soul, 

And  grow  forever  and  forever. 
Bio* ,  bugle,  blow,  set  the  wild  echoes  flying, 
And  answer  echoes,  answer,  dying,  dying,  dying. 

—  The  Bugle,  from  the  Princess  :  Tennyson. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   SACRIFICE   OF  SENSE  TO   SOUND. 

Verse  in  which  Attention  to  Sound  prevents  Representation  of  Thought  — 
Violating  Laws  of  Natural  Expression  or  Grammatical  Construction  — 
Excellences  exaggerated,  the  Source  of  these  Faults  —  Insertion  of 
Words,  Pleonasm,  Superfluity  ;  Transposition  of  Words,  Inversion, 
Hyperbaton,  tending  to  Obscurity  —  Style  of  the  Age  of  Dryden  — 
Alteration  of  Words  in  Accent  ;  or  by  Aphseresis,  Front-Cut  ;  Syncope, 
Mid-Cut  ;  or  Apocope,  End-Cut  —  All  these  often  show  Slovenly  Work- 
manship. 


'T^HE  theory  underlying  all  that  has  been  said  thus  far 
is,  that  poetry  is  an  artistic  development  of  lan- 
guage ;  its  versification,  of  the  pauses  of  natural  breathing  ; 
its  rhythm  and  tune,  of  the  accents  and  inflections  of  ordi- 
nary conversation  ;  and  the  significance  in  its  sounds,  of 
ejaculatory  and  imitative  methods  actuating  the  very  earli- 
est efforts  of  our  race  at  verbal  expression.  The  inference 
suggested  has  been  that  these  effects  produced  by  sound 
are  legitimate  in  poetry,  because,  like  language,  and  as  a 
part  of  it,  and  far  more  significantly  than  some  forms  of 
it,  they  represent  thought.  This  inference  necessarily 
carries  with  it  another,  which  it  seems  important  to  em- 
phasize before  we  leave  this  part  of  our  subject.  It  is 
this,  —  that  no  effects  produced  by  sound  are  legitimate  in 
poetry,  which  fail  in  any  degree  to  represent  thought.  If 
a  man's  first  impression  on  entering  a  picture-gallery 
comes  from  a  suggestion  of  paint,  he  may  know  that  he 

150 


SACRIFICE   OF  SENSE  TO  SOUND.  151 

is  not  in  the  presence  of  the  masters.  So  if  his  first  im- 
pression on  beginning  to  read  verse  comes  from  a  sugges- 
tion of  jingle,  of  sound  or  of  form  of  any  kind  not  con- 
nected in  some  most  intimate  way  with  an  appeal  to  his 
higher  aesthetic  nature,  he  may  be  sure  that  the  lines 
before  him  do  not  entitle  their  author  to  a  high  poetic 
rank.  As  I  intend  to  show  further  on,  all  artistic  poetry 
must  produce  the  effects  of  form,  but  these  include  im- 
pressions recognized  not  only  by  the  outer  ear,  but  also 
by  the  inner  mind.  It  is  because  of  the  exceeding  diffi- 
culty of  perfectly  adjusting  sound  to  thought  and  thought 
to  sound,  till,  like  perfectly  attuned  strings  of  a  perfect  in- 
strument, both  strike  together  in  all  cases  so  as  to  form  a 
single  chord  of  a  perfect  harmony,  that  there  are  so  few 
great  poets.  Before  we  pass  on,  therefore,  let  us  notice 
a  few  of  the  more  prominent  ways  in  which  writers,  be- 
cause of  their  endeavor  to  conform  their  expressions  to 
the  requirements  of  mere  versification,  fail  to  make  them 
conform  to  the  requirements  of  language,  fail  to  make 
them  represent  thought. 

In  making  this  examination,  we  shall  be  compelled  to 
take  for  our  standard  the  language  of  ordinary  intercourse. 
Poetic  form  necessitates  a  peculiar  selection  and  arrange- 
ment of  words  and  phrases.  But  if  these  violate  the  laws 
of  natural  expression  or  of  grammatical  construction,  as 
exemplified  in  the  language  of  prose,  thejr  meanings  may 
be  obscured  entirely,  or,  if  not  so,  will,  at  least,  be  con- 
veyed through  forms  that  seem  artificial.  It  was  for 
these  reasons  that  Wordsworth  argued  that  there  should 
be  no  difference  between  the  language  of  poetry  and  of 
prose.  In  his  own  practice  he  sometimes  carried  out  his 
theory  only  too  faithfully ;  but  a  truth  underlay  it,  which 
always  needs  to  be  borne  in  mind.  The  problem  in  con- 


152  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

nection  with  all  versification  is,  how  to  arrange  words  at 
once  metrically  and  naturally.  We  all  recognize  that  cer- 
tain poets  are  able  to  do  this,  and  that  this  fact  tends  to 
increase  their  popularity.  It  is  one  of  the  chief  charms 
of  the  poetry  of  Longfellow.  Notice  this  for  instance  : 

Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 

We  can  make  our  lives  sublime, 
And,  departing,  leave  behind  us 

Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time. 

— Psalm  of  Life. 

Lines  like  these  seem  very  easy  to  write ;  yet  a  book 
filled  with  lines  like  these  is  very  difficult  to  write.  Few 
poets  could  arrange  vowels  and  consonants  so  as  to  pro- 
duce such  rhythmical  and  musical  effects,  without  impair- 
ing, somewhat,  the  naturalness  of  their  phraseology.  Their 
departures  from  the  latter,  in  order  to  satisfy  the  demands 
of  the  former,  usually  manifest  themselves  in  one  of  five 
different  ways,  viz. :  in  the  insertion,  the  transposition,  the 
alteration,  the  omission,  or  the  misuse  of  words. 

All  these,  as  we  shall  find,  are  exaggerations  of  ten- 
dencies, which,  kept  in  due  subordination,  or  used  to 
increase  the  effect  of  the  thought  and  not  of  the  sound 
alone,  are  excellences.  The  first  fault  mentioned,  for 
instance,  the  insertion  of  words  not  needed  for  the  sense, 
termed  also  pleonasm,  or  superfluity,  grows  out  of  a  legiti- 
mate endeavor  to  enhance  the  impressiveness  of  what  is 
presented.  In  the  following,  the  very  fact  that  the  prayer 
is  made  the  chief  object  of  observation,  makes  it  proper, 
not  only,  but  desirable,  to  bring  in  an  otherwise  useless 
he,  in  order  to  represent  rightly  the  order  of  the  thought : 

His  prayer  he  saith,  this  patient  holy  man. 

— Eve  of  St.  Agnes  ;  Keats. 

So,  in  these  lines,  the  author's  putting  the  words  wind 


SACRIFICE   OF  SENSE  TO   SOUND.  153 

and  ship  before  the  apparently  superfluous  pronouns, 
really  adds  as  much  to  the  thought  as  if  he  had  written  a 
separate  sentence,  calling  our  attention  to  these  objects. 
In  reading  his  words,  we  think  first  of  the  objects  as  exist- 
ing, and  then  of  what  they  did : 

The  wind  it  blew,  and  the  ship  it  flew 
And  it  was  "  Hey  for  hame." 

***** 
And  then  the  good  ship,  she  lay  to 

***** 
The  skipper,  he  louted  to  the  king. 

—  The  Earl  o'  Quarterdeck  :  George  MacDonald. 

Even  actual  repetition,  in  certain  cases  the  worst  form 
of  pleonasm,  is  not  always  a  defect.  Who  does  not  per- 
ceive how  much  of  the  impressiveness  of  these  lines  de- 
pends on  the  repetition  of  the  word  red  ? 

The  light  that  seemed  a  twinkling  star 
Now  blazed  portentous,  fierce  and  far, 
Dark-red  the  heaven  above  it  glowed, 
Dark-red  the  sea  beneath  it  flowed,. 
Red  rose  the  rocks  on  ocean's  brim, 
In  blood-red  light  her  islets  swim. 

—Lord  of  the  Isles  5  :  Scott. 

Or  who  could  wish  to  have  the  second  of  these  lines 
omitted  ? 

They  glide  like  phantoms  into  the  wide  hall ; 
Like  phantoms,  to  the  iron  porch  they  glide, 

— Eve  of  St.  Agnes  :  Keats. 

But  when  the  words  producing  the  pleonasms  merely 
fill  out  the  form  of  the  phraseology,  and  help  the  metre 
without  amplifying  or  aiding  the  thought,  then,  like 
verbosity  in  prose,  they  weaken  the  passage  in  which 
they  occur.  Notice  how  the  same  thought  is  repeated  in 
different  lines  of  the  following  : 


154  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  spacious  firmanent  on  high 
With  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky, 
And  spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame, 
Their  great  Original  proclaim. 

— Hymn  :  Addison. 

Notice  too  the  italicized  words,  evidently  placed  in  this 
merely  to  make  out  the  line  and  rhyme : 

Here  he  lives  in  state  and  bounty, 

Lord  of  Burleigh,  fair  and  free  ; 
Not  a  lord  in  all  the  country 

Is  so  great  a  lord  as  he. 

— Lord  of  Burleigh  :   Tennyson. 

To  condemn  fair  and  free  for  the  reason  given,  may 
seem  hypercritical ;  but  probably  all  will  recognize  that 
at  least  in  the  two  following  stanzas,  there  are  many 
words  used  for  no  higher  purpose  than  the  one  just 
mentioned.  If  so,  what  is  it  that  they  represent  ? — the 
poet's  thought  ? — Why  not  rather  his  lack  of  thought  ? 

Across  a  deep  swift  river,  and  the  door 

Shut  fast  against  him,  did  he  see  therein, 

Where  through  with  trembling  steps  he  passed  before, 

That  happy  life  above  all  lives  to  win, 

And  round  about  him  the  sharp  grass  and  thin 

Covered  low  mounds  that  here  and  there  arose, 

For  to  his  head  his  forerunners  were  close. 

Then  with  changed  voice  he  moaned,  and  to  his  feet 

Slowly  he  gat,  and  'twixt  the  tree-boles  gray 

He  'gan  to  go,  and  tender  words  and  sweet 

Were  in  his  ears,  the  promise  of  a  day 

When  he  should  cast  all  troublous  thoughts  away. 

He  stopped  and  turned  his  face  unto  the  trees 

To  hearken  to  the  moaning  of  the  breeze. 

—  The  Man  Who  Never  Laughed  Again  :    W.  Morris. 

The  transposition  of  words,  called  too  inversion  and 
hyperbaton,  is  also,  like  the  insertion  of  them,  a  develop- 
ment of  a  tendency  not  only  legitimate  but  essential  to 


SACRIFICE  OF  SENSE  TO  SOUND.  155 

the  highest  excellence,  wherever  the  thought  can  be 
thus  more  strikingly  represented ;  as,  for  instance,  in  the 
following,  where  the  phraseology  pictures  the  influence 
described  in  the  order  of  its  course  from  its  beginning  to 
its  end  : 

From  harmony,  from  heavenly  harmony 

This  universal  frame  began  : 

From  harmony  to  harmony 
Through  all  the  compass  of  the  notes  it  ran, 
The  diapason  closing  full  in  man. 

— Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day  :  Dryden. 

Or  in  the  opening  lines  of  the  Paradise  Lost,  in  which 
Milton,  following  the  examples  of  Homer  and  Virgil  and 
Dante  in  their  great  epics,  transposes  the  clauses  of  the 
introductory  sentence  so  that  the  thought  which  is  to 
form  the  theme  of  the  poem,  and  to  which  he  wishes  to 
attract  the  reader's  first  attention,  shall  be  read  first : 

Of  man's  first  disobedience,  and  the  fruit 

Of  that  forbidden  tree,  whose  mortal  taste 

Brought  death  into  the  world,  and  all  our  woe,  .     .     . 

Sing  heavenly  Muse. 

— Parodist  Lost,  /. 

Keats  opens  his  Hyperion  in  a  similar  way : 

Deep  in  the  shady  sadness  of  a  vale, 
Far  sunken  from  the  healthy  breath  of  morn, 
Far  from  the  fiery  noon  and  eve's  one  star, 
Sat  gray-eyed  Saturn,  quiet  as  a  stone. 

And  we  all  can  recall  the  arrangement  for  analogous 
reasons  of  Shakespeare's  description  of  the  death  of 
Caesar. 

Then  burst  his  mighty  heart. 

— yulius  Casar,  iii.,  2. 

But  transposition  of  the  words  for  the  sake  of  the 
thoughts  in  them  is  one  thing,  and  for  the  sake  of  the 
sounds  in  them,  is  another.  In  the  latter  case,  it  may 


156  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

become  a  very  serious  fault,  rendering  the  phraseology 
not  only  obscure  but  artificial.  The  following,  for  in 
stance,  is  obscure : 

"  But  reason  thus  :  '  If  we  sank  low, 
If  the  lost  garden  we  forego, 
Each  in  his  day,  nor  ever  know 

But  in  our  poet-souls  its  face  ; 
Yet  we  may  rise  until  we  reach 
A  height  untold  of  in  its  speech — 
A  lesson  that  it  could  not  teach 

Learn  in  this  darker  dwelling-place.' 

"  And  reason  on  ;  '  We  take  the  spoil ; 
Loss  made  us  poets  and  the  soil 
Taught  us  great  patience  in  our  toil, 

And  life  is  kin  to  God  through  death. 
Christ  was  not  one  with  us  but  so, 
And  if  bereft  of  Him  we  go  ; 
Dearer  the  heavenly  mansions  grow, 
His  home,  to  man  that  wandereth.'  " 

— Scholar  and  Carpenter  :  Jean  Ingelow* 

The  following,  illustrating  the  same  fault,  is  a  good  ex- 
ample of  the  artificial,  stilted,  heroic  couplet,  which  was 
the  fashion  in  the  times  when  it  was  written.  It  was 
against  this  style  that  Wordsworth  was  arguing  when  he 
asserted  that  poetic  language  from  Pope's  Translation  of 
Homer  to  Darwin's  Temple  of  Nature  could  "  claim  to  be 
poetic  for  no  better  reason  than  that  it  would  be  intolera- 
ble in  conversation  or  in  prose." 

For  while  he  mischief  means  to  all  mankind, 
Himself  alone  the  ill  effects  does  find  ; 
And  so  like  witches  justly  suffers  shame. 
Whose  harmless  malice  is  so  much  the  same. 
False  are  his  words,  affected  is  his  wit  ; 
So  often  he  does  aim,  so  seldom  hit  ; 
To  every  face  he  cringes  while  he  speaks, 
But  when  the  back  is  turned  the  head  he  breaks. 

— Essay  upon  Satire  :  Dryden. 


SACRIFICE   OF  SENSE  TO   SOUND.  157 

The  chief  characteristic  of  this  style  is  evidently  a  de- 
termination to  produce  rhyme  and  a  sort  of  metrical 
balance  in  the  lines,  no  matter  how  unnatural  the  effects 
may  seem,  as  compared  with  the  language  of  prose, 
What  is  remarkable,  too,  is  that,  with  all  this  preponder- 
ating devotion  to  the  supposed  requirements  of  form, 
there  appears  to  be,  both  in  Pope  and  Dryden,  a  marked 
absence  of  any  desire  to  produce  the  finer  qualities  of 
sound,  like  those  of  assonance,  phonetic  syzygy  and  gra- 
dation, which  make  poetry  really  musical.  With  all 
their  transpositions,  they  never  succeeded  in  producing  the; 
purely  melodious  effects  of  Tennyson  and  Longfellow. 

By  the  alteration  of  words  is  meant  either  the  changing 
of  their  conventional  accents,  or  the  adding  to  them  of 
taking  from  them  of  letters  or  syllables.  In  some  casesc 
these  changes  may  augment  the  effect  of  the  thought. 
On  account  of  their  real  or  supposed  resemblance  to 
archaic,  dialectic,  or  colloquial  uses  of  language,  and  for 
the  very  reason  that  the  words  are  not  in  the  highest 
sense  elegant,  they  emphasize  the  fact  that  the  style  is 
natural  for  the  circumstances  ;  and  the  very  quaintness  of 
it,  like  the  rustic  air  and  dress  of  an  otherwise  pretty 
maiden,  adds  to  its  attractiveness.  Thus  Thomas  Chat- 
terton,  in  Bristowe  Tragedy,  in  connection  with  many 
changes  in  spelling  which  need  not  be  noted  here,  alters 
parts,  crows,  spectacle,  and  noble ;  e.  g.  : 

The  bloody  axe  his  body  fair 

Into  four  parties  cut ; 
And  every  part  and  eke  his  head. 

Upon  a  pole  was  put. 

One  part  did  rot  on  Kynwulft  hill, 

One  on  the  minster  tower, 
And  one  from  off  the  castle  gate. 

The  crowen  did  devour  ; 


158  POETRY  AS  A  REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  other  an  St.  Powle's  good  gate, 

A  dreary  spectacel  ; 
Its  head  was  placed  on  the  high  cross, 

In  high  street  most  nobel. 

As  we  should  expect  from  a  dialect  writer,  the  poems 
of  Burns  are  full  of  examples  of  this. 

For  a'  that  and  a'  that, 

Their  tinsel  show  and  a'  that, 
The  honest  man,  though  e'er  sae  poor, 

Is  king  o'  men  for  a'  that. 

— Is  there  for  honest  Poverty. 

Heard  ye  o'  the  tree  o'  France, 
I  watna  what  's  the  name  o'  't. 

—  Tree  of  'Liberty \ 

And  Shakespear,  in  this  single  sentence,  shortens  one 
word  and  lengthens  another. 

I  'gin  to  be  a-weary  of  the  sun. 

— Macbeth ,  v.,  5. 

Notwithstanding  cases  in  which  these  alterations  are 
appropriate,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  tendency  causing 
them  may  be  carried  too  far.  For  every  legitimate  effect 
produced  by  them,  there  are  scores  of  instances  in  which 
nothing  better  can  be  said  of  them  than  that  they  repre- 
sent slovenly  workmanship.  This  is  true  sometimes  of 
forms  so  familiar  to  us  that  the  altered  words  seem 
scarcely  to  be  altered  at  all ;  as,  for  instance,  in  cases  of 
aphceresis  or  front-cut,  like  77/,  he  's,  't  is,  'neath,  'tween; 
of  syncope  or  mid-cut,  like  oer,  e'en,  e'er ;  and  of  apocope 
or  end-cut ',  like  o\  wi\  and  i\  Whatever  may  be  thought 
of  these  cases,  however,  there  is  no  doubt  about  the 
effects  of  less  familiar  changes.  Notice  the  following : 

But  peaceful  was  the  night 
Wherein  \he  Prince  of  Light 


SACRIFICE   OF  SENSE  TO  SOUND.  159 

His  reign  of  peace  upon  the  earth  began  ; 

The  winds  with  wonder  whist 

Smoothly  the  waters  kist, 
Whispering  new  joys  to  the  mild  ocean. 

— Hymn  on  the  Nativity  .*  Milton. 

I  joyless  view  thy  rays  adorn 
The  faintly  marked  distant  hill. 

—Lament;  Burns. 

And  at  his  side  by  that  same  tide 
Came  bar  and  beam  als6. 

—  Winstanlcy  :  Jean  Ingelow. 

And  so  sepulchred  in  such  pomp  dost  lie, 
That  kings  for  such  a  tomb  would  wish  to  die. 

—On  Shakespear:  Milton. 

Shall  my  foolish  heart  be  pined 
'Cause  I  see  a  woman  kind  ; 
Or  a  well  disposed  nature 
Joined  with  a  lovely  feature  ? 

—  The  Manly  Heart :  G.  Wither. 

A  shield  that  gives  delight 
Even  to  the  enemies'  sight, 
Then  when  they're  sure  to  lose  the  combat  by  't. 

—  To  Mr.  Hobbes  :  Cowley. 

Slowly  he  gat  and  'twixt  the  tree-boles  gray 
He  }gan  to  go. 

—  The  Man  Who  Never  Laughed  Again  :   Wm.  Mortis.. 
I  stand  'mazed  in  the  moonlight. 

—  The   Unbeloved:  Massey* 
Yet  are  'ware  of  a  sight,  yet  are  'ware  of  a  sound. 

— A  Rhapsody  of  Life  s  Progress  :  Mrs.  Browning. 

O  perfect  love  that  'dureth  long. 

— Afternoon  at  a  Parsonage  :  Jean  Ingelow. 

And  'plaineth  of  love's  disloyalties. 

— Divided:  Jean  Ingelow. 

The  fact  that  some  of  these  latter  words  were  once 
used  in  English  without  prefixes,  does  not  excuse  these 


l6o  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

elisions.  Most  readers  feel  that  this  had  nothing  to  do 
with  their  appearance  in  the  particular  places  where  we 
find  them,  and  that  they  were  used  here  solely  because 
their  writers  did  not  exercise  the  skill  needed  in  order  to 
construct  their  lines  so  as  to  contain  words  like  amazed, 
aware,  endureth,  and  complaineth. 

If  nothing  else  can  show  us  the  inappropriateness  of 
these  changes  in  serious  poetry,  the  way  in  which  they  are 
used  for  comic  effects  should  do  it ;  for  example  : 

Stick  close  to  your  desks,  and  never  go  to  sea, 
And  you  all  may  be  rulers  of  the  queen's  navee. 

— Pinafore:  Gilbert. 

I  du  believe  in  prayer  an'  praise 

To  him — that  hez  the  grantin' 
O'  jobs  ;  in  every  thin'  thet  pays  ; 

But  most  of  all  in  cantin' ; 
This  doth  my  cup  with  marcies  fill, 

That  lays  all  thought  o'  sin  to  rest  ; 
I  don't  believe  in  princerple, 

But,  O  !  I  du  in  interest. 

—Bigelow  Papers  :  Lowell 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

SACRIFICE  OF  SENSE  TO  SOUND  CONTINUED. 

Omission  of  Words  or  Ellipsis  indicating  Crudeness — Leading  to  Obscurity 
because  Meanings  are  conveyed  by  Phrases  as  well  as  by  Words- 
Misuse  of  Words,  Enallage — Poetic  Sounds  are  Artistic  in  the  Degree 
in  which  they  really  represent  Thought  and  Feeling. 

HP  HE  alteration  of  words  leads  to  results  far  less  seri- 
ous than  the  omission  of  them,  which  is  the  fault 
that  we  have  next  to  consider;  for  while  the  former 
makes  the  style  less  natural,  and,  so  far  as  art  is  to  be 
judged  by  the  standards  of  nature,  less  artistic,  the  latter 
makes  it  less  useful,  at  times,  indeed,  well-nigh  unintel- 
ligible. Omission  or  ellipsis  is  an  exaggeration  of  terse- 
ness in  style,  which  is  often  a  great  excellence.  In  all 
kinds  of  writing,  but  especially  in  that  appealing  to  the 
imagination,  it  is  a  fault  to  express  too  much.  Those  to 
whom  poetry  is  naturally  addressed  derive  their  main 
satisfaction  and  therefore  interest,  from  that  which  in- 
fluences them  in  the  way  of  suggestion,  leaving  their 
fancies  free  to  range  where  and  as  they  will.  Notice  in 
the  following  how  much  the  ellipses — and  there  are  many 
of  them — add  to  the  vivaciousness  of  the  effect,  and  at 
the  same  time  how  little  they  detract  from  its  clearness. 

Coriolanus. — Hear'st  thou,  Mars  ? 

Aufidius. — Name  not  the  god,  thou  boy  of  tears— 

Coriolanus. — Ha ! 

Aufidius. — No  more. 


1 62  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Coriolanus. — Measureless  liar,  thou  hast  made  my  heart 

Too  great  for  what  contains  it.     Boy  ! — O  slave  ! — 

Pardon  me  lords,  't  is  the  first  time  that  ever 

I  was  forced  to  scold.     Your  judgments,  my  grave  lords, 

Must  give  this  cur  the  lie     ... 

Cut  me  to  pieces,  Volsces  ;  men  and  lads, 

Stain  all  your  edges  on  me  ! — Boy  !     False  houna, 

If  you  have  writ  your  annals  true,  't  is  there 

That  like  an  eagle  in  a  dove-cote,  I 

Fluttered  your  Volscians  in  Corioli : 

Alone  I  did  it — Boy  ! 

— Coriolanus  T.,  6  :   Shakespear* 
\t 

Beside  its  embers,  red  and  clear, 

Basked,  in  his  plaid,  a  mountaineer  ; 

And  up  he  sprung  with  sword  in  hand,— 

"  Thy  name  and  purpose  !  Saxon,  stand  !  " 

'*  A  stranger." — "  What  dost  thou  require  ?" 

"  Rest  and  a  guide,  and  food  and  fire. 

My  life 's  beset,  my  path  is  lost, 

The  gale  has  chilled  my  limbs  with  frost.** 

"  Art  thou  a  friend  to  Roderic  ?  " — "  No."— - 

14  Thou  darest  not  call  thyself  a  foe  ?  " 

"  I  dare  !  to  him  and  all  the  band 

He  brings  to  aid  his  murderous  hand." — 

"  Bold  words  ! — but,  though  the  beast  of  game 

The  privilege  of  chase  may  claim, 

Though  space  and  law  the  stag  we  lend, 

Ere  hound  we  slip,  or  bow  we  bend, 

Who  ever  recked,  where,  how,  or  when, 

The  prowling  fox  was  trapped  or  slain  ? 

Thus,  treacherous  scouts — yet  sure  they  lie, 

Who  say  thou  comest  a  secret  spy  ! " 

— Lady  of  tht  Lake,  4  :  Scoff. 

In  using  ellipses,  however,  there  is  always  danger,  as  is 
suggested  here  in  the  last  line  but  one,  that  the  poet,  in 
trying  not  to  express  his  thoughts  too  fully,  will  fail  to 
express  them  adequately,  especially  when  he  is  beset  by 
the  additional  temptation  of  omitting  certain  of  his  words 


SACRIFICE   OF  SENSE    TO   SOUND.  163 

in  order  to  make  his  phraseology  fit  his  metres.  If  he 
yield  to  this  temptation,  his  style  will  manifest,  if  nothing 
worse,  a  crudeness  and  lack  of  skill  inconsistent  with  the 
best  artistic  effects.  Here  are  instances  of  this,  in  which 
the  article  is  omitted  : 

As  frozen  drop  of  wintry  dew. 

— Lady  of  the  Lake,  5  :   Scott. 

The  near  approach  of  dreaded  foe. 

— Idem. 

While  Porphyro  upon  her  face  doth  look, 
Like  puzzled  urchin  on  an  aged  crone 
Who  keepeth  clos'd  a  wondrous  riddle-book, 
As  spectacled  she  sits  in  chimney  nook. 

— Eve  of  St.  Agnes  :  JCeats. 

Here  a  pronoun  is  omitted  : 

No  foot  Fitz-James  in  stirrup  stayed. 

— Lady  of  Lake,  5  :   Scott. 
Jumped  from  the  wreck  upon  the  reef  to  catch 
The  hands  that  strained  to  reach  (them)  but  tumbled  back. 

—  Wreck  of  Grace  of  Sunderland  :  Jean  Ingelow. 

Though  mixed  with  most  unhallowed  leven, 
That  proved  to  those  who  foolishly  partook  (of  it) 
Eternal  bitterness. 

— Course  of  Time,  2  :  Pollock. 

Here  a  preposition  and  article  : 

Right  hand,  they  leave  thy  cliffs. 

— Lady  of  Lake,  5  :   Scott. 

Here  a  preposition  : 

Made  to  look  me  and  light  me  to  heaven. 

— A  Poor  Mans  Wife  :  Massey. 

Here  verbs  are  omitted  :  the  whole  stanza  is  quoted  : 
No  grasping  at  love,  gaining  a  share 

O'  the  sole  spark  from  God's  life  at  strife 
With  death,  so,  sure  of  range  above 

The  limits  here  ?     For  us  and  love, 
Failure  ;  but,  when  God  fails,  despair. 

— Le  Byron  de  nos  Jours  :  A'.  Browning. 


164  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

This  stanza  shows  the  worst  feature  in  these  omissions, — 
their  tendency  to  obscurity.  In  conventional  language 
we  derive  ideas  not  only  from  words  but  from  phrases ; 
and  we  must  hear  the  phrase  as  a  whole,  or  its  words  may 
not  only  fail  to  convey  clearly  their  intended  meaning 
but  may  misrepresent  it.  The  phrase  a  girl  of  age,  for 
instance,  used  in  the  next  quotation,  means  a  girl  who 
has  arrived  at  her  majority,  and  not  at  all  the  same  as  a 
girl  of  an  age,  which,  presumably,  is  what  the  poet  in- 
tended to  say.  So  the  phrases  in  part,  under  way,  by  way, 
— and  a  like  truth  might  be  affirmed  of  hundreds  of 
others, — do  not  mean  the  same  as  in  the  part,  under  the 
way,  or  by  the  way.  Hence  we  see  that  the  omission  of 
even  an  occasional  article,  apparently  the  least  important 
of  our  words,  may  make  a  most  important  difference  in  the 
ideas  communicated.  Let  us  examine,  now,  another  pas- 
sage from  that  great  master  of  the  ellipsis,  Robert  Brown- 
ing, and  notice,  again,  how  he  drifts  into  obscurity,  and  this, 
too,  where  there  is  no  occasion  for  it  in  the  sense,  nor 
gain  from  it  in  the  effect.  In  order  to  express  fully  the 
meaning  of  the  following  lines,  according  to  the  methods 
of  ordinary  prose,  one  would  be  obliged  to  supply,  of 
words  that  are  omitted,  seven  pronouns,  three  articles, 
two  prepositions,  one  adverb,  two  conjunctions,  one  factor 
of  a  comparison,  three  auxiliary  and  four  principal  verbs, 
as  well  as  to  change  the  mood  and  tense  of  another  verb, 
and  to  transpose  many  of  the  words  and  phrases : 

So  I  said  and  did 

Simply.     As  simply  followed,  not  at  first 
But  with  the  outbreak  of  misfortune,  still 
One  comment  on  the  saying  and  doing — what  ? 
No  blush  at  the  avowal  you  dared  buy 
A  girl  of  age  beseems  your  granddaughter, 
Like  ox  or  ass  ? 
—  The  Ring  and  the  Book  ;  Count  Guido  :  R.  Browning. 


SACRIFICE   OF  SENSE  TO  SOUND.  165 

Here  is  what  this  means,  expressed  in  ordinary  lan- 
guage i 

So  I  said,  and  did 

Simply.     As  simply  as  I  did  it,  there  followed, 
Not  at  first  but  with  the  outbreak  of  the  misfortune,  still 
One  comment  on  the  saying  and  doing  of  it,  which  was— 

What  does  this  mean  ? 

Do  you  show  no  blush  at  the  avowal  that  you  dared  to  buy 
Like  an  ox  or  ass, — 
A  girl  of  an  age  that  might  beseem  your  granddaughter  ? 

Of  course  it  would  not  be  necessary  actually  to  insert 
all  these  words  into  this  passage,  to  make  plain  prose 
of  it.  But  they  would  all  have  to  be  understood,  as  gram- 
marians express  it.  That  is  to  say,  in  order  to  get  at  the 
meaning  of  Browning's  forty-six  words,  it  would  be  nec- 
essary for  the  reader  to  supply  twenty-two  words  more. 
We  all  believe  that  poetry  should  appeal  to  the  imagina- 
tion. But  is  not  this  rather  over-doing  the  appeal  ?  Does 
it  not  involve  too  much  of  a  stretch  of  the  imagination 
for  ordinary  mortals  ?  Is  it  a  wonder,  therefore,  that 
some  fail  to  catch  all  of  this  poet's  meanings  ?  Is  it  their 
fault  or  his  that  he  feels  impelled  to  write : 

Well,  British  public,  ye  who  like  me  not, 
(God  love  you)  and  will  have  your  proper  laugh 
At  the  dark  question,  laugh  it  !     I  laugh  first. 

—  The  Ring  and  the  Book,  Introduction. 

The  misuse  of  words  is  the  last  of  the  faults  that  we 
have  to  consider  in  this  connection  ;  and  it  is  the  most 
objectionable,  because  while  the  others  misrepresent  the 
thought  indirectly,  this  does  so  directly.  Nevertheless, 
it,  too,  springs  from  the  exaggeration  of  a  tendency  which, 
kept  within  bounds,  may  enhance  the  effect  of  the 
thought.  It  appears  in  its  mildest  form  when  by  enal- 
laget  as  it  is  called,  one  part  of  speech  or  one  modifica- 


1 66  POETRY  AS  A  REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

tion  of  a  part  of  speech,  like  its  number,  mood,  or  tense,  is 
used  for  another.  Probably  all  of  us  can  recall  cases  in 
which  the  thought  to  be  expressed  is  made  much  more 
graphic  and  therefore  distinct  in  its  appeal  to  the  mind 
through  the  use  of  this  figure.  Here,  for  example,  a  noun 
is  used  for  a  verb  : 

I  '11  queen  it  no  inch  further, 
But  milk  my  ewes  and  weep. 

—  Winter's  Tale,  iv.,  3  :  Shakespear. 

Here  an  adjective  for  a  verb  : 

Be  he  ne'er  so  vile, 
This  day  shall  gentle  his  condition. 

— Henry  V.,  ir.,  3  :  Idem. 

Here  adverbs  for  nouns : 

Full  of  all  the  tender  pathos 
Of  the  Here  and  the  Hereafter. 

— Song  of  Hiawatha  :  Longfellow. 

Here  a  preposition  for  an  adjective  : 

I  will  fight 

Against  my  canker'd  country  with  the  spleea 
Of  all  the  under  fiends. 

— Corielanus,  ir.,  5  :  Shakespear. 

Here  a  preposition  for  a  noun  : 

Yet  long'st, — 

But  in  a  fainter  kind  : — O  not  like  me, 
For  mine  's  beyond  beyond. 

— Cymbeline,  iii.,  2:  Idem. 

Here  one  number  for  another : 

And  see  the  lovely  ladies  gay, 
Step  on  in  velvet  gown. 

—  Winstanley  :  Jean  Ingelow* 

Here  an  intransitive  for  a  transitive  verb : 


SACRIFICE  OF  SENSE  TO   SOUND.  1 6? 

It  yearns  me  not  if  men  my  garments  wear. 

— Henry  V.,  iv.,  3:  Shakespear. 

And  here  one  tense  for  another,  by  what  is  termed 
metastasis,  and  in  this  particular  use  of  it,  the  historical 
present. 

Sudden  a  thought  came  like  a  full-blown  rose, 
Flushing  his  brow,  and  in  his  pained  heart 
Made  purple  riot  ;  then  doth  he  propose 
A  stratagem,  that  makes  the  beldame  start. 

— Eve  of  St.  Agnes  :  Keats. 

The  occasional  use  of  these  methods,  however,  in  order 
to  make  the  representation  of  the  ideas  more  graphic, 
scarcely  justifies  that  kind  of  poetic  license  which  violates 
the  laws  of  grammar  and  of  lexicography,  merely  for  the 
sake  of  form.  Notice  a  few  examples  of  this : 

Sudden  his  steed  his  leader  rein'd. 

— Lady  of  the  Lake,  5  :  Scott. 

Who  instant  to  his  stirrup  sprung. 

— Idem. 

You  are  one  of  many,  the  old  Mayor  said, 
That  on  the  rock  complain  [for  of~\. 

—  Winstanley  :  Jean  Ingelow. 

More  rttddier  too  than  is  the  rose 
Within  her  lovely  face. 

—  The  Portrait :  Heywood. 

And  there  was  naught  of  strange  beside. 

— High  Tide  :  Jean  Ingeloiv. 

I  fell  flooded  with  a  Dark 
In  the  silence  of  a  swoon. 

— Bertha  in  the  Lane  :  Mrs.  Browning. 

Do  you  know  our  voices 
Chanting  down  the  Golden  ? 

— Drama  of  Exile  :  Idem. 

The  worst  thing  that  can  be  said  of  some  of  these,  per- 


l68  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

haps,  is  that  they  sound  a  little  like  slang.     Here  there  is 
an  ungrammatical  arrangement  of  tenses  : 

At  last  surrounds  their  sight 
A  globe  of  circular  light 

That  with  long  beams  the  shamefaced  night  arrayed  j 
The  helmed  Cherubim, 
And  s worded  Seraphim, 

Are  seen  in  glittering  ranks  with  wings  displayed. 

— Hymn  on  the  Nativity  :  Milton. 

Graver  instances  of  this  fault  occur,  however,  where, 
in  order  to  produce  sounds  supposed  to  be  desirable, 
words  are  used  with  little  reference  to  their  meanings,  cal- 
culated, therefore,  if  interpreted  literally,  to  convey  ideas 
absurd  or  false.  In  this  stanza,  for  instance,  few  can  fail 
to  suspect  that  the  poet  uses  the  word  countenance  be- 
cause it  alliterates  with  decorum,  and  contains  a  vowel- 
sound  that  goes  well  with  decorum  and  wore ;  that  he 
uses  ancient  because  it  forms  an  assonance  with  raven,  and 
also  shorn  and  shaven,  because  the  latter  word  rhymes 
with  raven.  That  is  to  say,  these  words  seem  to  be  used, 
and  the  number  of  them  might  be  multiplied  even  in  this 
stanza,  not  because  they  are  the  best  through  which  to 
express  the  sense,  but  on  account  of  their  sounds. 

Then  this  ebony  bird,  beguiling  my  sad  fancy  into  smiling, 
By  the  grave  and  stern  decorum  of  the  countenance  it  wore, 
"Though  thy  crest  be  shorn  and  shaven,  thou,"  I  said,  "art  sure  no 

craven  ; 

Ghastly,  grim,  and  ancient  raven,  wandering  from  the  nightly  shore, 
Tell  me  what  thy  lordly  name  is  on  the  night's  Plutonian  shore." 
Quoth  the  raven,  "  Nevermore." 

—  The  Raven  :  Poe. 

Poe  is  given  to  such  faults  as  these.  Notice  the  in- 
correctness of  words  like  fully  and  distinctly,  as  used  in 
the  following. 


SACRIFICE   OF  SENSE  TO   SOUND.  169 

Yet  the  ear  it  fully  knows, 

By  the  twanging 

And  the  clanging 
How  the  danger  ebbs  and  flows  ; 
Yet  the  ear  distinctly  tells, 

In  the  jangling 

And  the  wrangling 
How  the  danger  sinks  and  swells, 
By  the  sinking  or  the  swelling  in  the  anger  of  the  bells, — 

Of  the  bells,— 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells,— 
In  the  clamor  and  the  clangor  of  the  bells. 

—  The  Bells. 

The  same  fault  is  apparent  in  Swinburne,  another 
great  master  of  the  music  of  verse,  who  occasionally 
allows  the  music  to  master  him.  Opening  his  Studies  in 
Song,  I  turn  to  these  stanzas.  Am  I  to  blame  that,  while 
reading  them,  I  find  myself  instinctively  asking  :  "  Desire 
and  require  what  ?  What  are  the  daysprings  of  fire,  and 
how  are  they  beneath  him?  How  can  harps  approve? 
What  sort  of  an  appearance  could  descend  through  dark 
ness  to  grace  any  thing?  How  does  breath  set  free? 
And  what  possible  connection  can  there  be  between  most 
of  the  deeds  detailed  and  the  effects  attributed  to  them  ? 
Of  course  a  little  reflection  may  enable  me  to  make  out 
the  poet's  meanings  here.  But  they  do  not  lie  on  the 
surface.  His  words  do  not  clearly  picture  his  thoughts. 
They  are  not  distinctly  representative.  They  are  not  in 
the  highest  sense,  therefore,  poetic. 

There  are  those  too  of  mortals  that  love  him, 

There  are  souls  that  desire  and  require, 
Be  the  glories  of  midnight  above  him 

Or  beneath  him  the  daysprings  of  fire  : 
And  their  hearts  are  as  harps  that  approve  him, 

And  praise  him  as  chords  of  a  lyre, 


POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

That  were  fain  with  their  music  to  move  him 
To  meet  their  desire. 

To  descend  through  the  darkness  to  grace  them 

Till  darkness  were  lovelier  than  light : 
To  encompass  and  grasp  and  embrace  them 

Till  their  weakness  were  one  with  his  might. 
With  the  strength  of  his  wings  to  caress  them. 

With  the  blast  of  his  breath  to  set  free, 
With  the  mouths  of  his  thunders  to  bless  them 

For  sons  of  the  sea. 

— By  the  North  Sea. 

The  same  lack  of  an  exact  and,  therefore,  of  a  distinctly 
representative  and  graphic  use  of  terms  is  apparent  in 
words  like  frank,  bounteous,  and  others  too  in  this  stanza, 
further  on  in  the  same  poem  ;  and  why  did  the  poet  ob- 
scure his  meaning  by  using  of  and.  for  in  the  third  line  ? 

Rose  triumphal,  crowning  all  a  city, 

Roofs  exalted  once  with  prayer  and  psalm, 
Built  of  holy  hands  for  holy  pity, 

Frank  and  fruitful  as  a  sheltering  palm. 
Church  and  hospice  wrought  in  faultless  fashion, 

Hall  and  chancel  bounteous  and  sublime, 
Wide  and  sweet  and  glorious  as  compassion, 

Filled  and  thrilled  with  force  of  choral  chime. 

— Idem. 

It  is  not  strange  that  one  who  has  thoroughly  at 
command  the  resources  of  the  music  of  verse  like  Swin- 
burne, or  of  suggestive  ellipses  like  Browning,  or  of  pic- 
turesque details  like  Morris,  should  occasionally,  in  the 
heat  and  exuberance  of  his  creative  moods,  push  his 
peculiar  excellence  altogether  beyond  the  limits  of  legiti- 
mate art ;  but  it  is  strange  that  the  critics  who  make  it 
their  business  to  form  cool  and  exact  estimates  of  literary 
work,  should  so  seldom  have  sufficient  insight  to  detect, 
or  courage  to  reveal,  wherein  lie  the  faults  that  injure  the 


SACRIFICE  OF  SENSE  TO  SOUND.  171 

style  of  each,  and  how  they  may  be  remedied.  How  can 
criticism  be  of  any  use  except  so  far  as  in  a  kindly  way  it 
can  aid  in  the  perfecting  of  that  on  which  it  turns  its 
scrutiny  ?  And  yet  it  is  doubtful  whether,  amid  all  the 
eulogy  and  abuse  which  have  greeted  all  the  works  of 
Robert  Browning,  any  one,  in  private  or  in  print,  has  ever 
told  him  plainly  what  those  faults  are — all  so  easy  to  cor- 
rect,— but  for  which  the  man  with  the  greatest  poetic  mind 
of  the  age  would  be — what  now  he  is  not — its  greatest 
poet.  And  if  criticism  of  this  kind  is  needed  by  authors 
who  have  attained  his  rank,  how  much  more  by  those  who, 
with  the  imitative  methods  of  inexperience,  are  always 
prone  to  copy  unconsciously,  and  usually  to  exaggerate, 
the  weak  rather  than  the  strong  points  of  the  masters! 
Many  a  young  writer,  doing  this  at  that  critical  period  of 
his  life  when  a  lack  of  stimulus  and  appreciation  may 
wholly  check  one's  career,  has  failed,  notwithstanding 
great  merits.  All  his  ability  in  other  directions  has  not 
compensated  for  his  ignorance  of  the  requirements  of 
poetic  technique.  It  was  largely  with  a  hope  of  aiding 
such,  that  this  work  was  first  conceived. 

The  conclusions  that  have  been  reached  thus  far  con- 
cur in  serving  to  prove  that  poetry  as  an  art  must  have 
form,  the  very  sounds  of  the  single  and  consecutive  words 
of  which  must  represent  the  phases  and  movements, 
physical,  intellectual,  or  emotional,  of  which  they  are  sup- 
posed to  be  significant ;  and  it  has  been  shown  that  great 
poets  like  Shakespear,  Spenser,  and  Milton  are  great 
masters  of  representative  expression  in  this  sense.  It 
follows  from  these  facts  that  no  poet  is  artistically  justified 
in  producing  effects  of  sound  through  any  insertion,  trans- 
position, alteration,  omission,  or  other  use  of  words,  that 
by  violating  the  laws  of  grammar  or  lexicography  obscures 


1 72  POE TRY  AS  A  REPRESENTA  TIVE  AR T. 

the  meaning.  "  Like  the  organs  of  seeing  and  hearing," 
says  Veron,  in  his  "  ^Esthetics,"  "  our  intellectual  powers 
are  only  able  to  expend  a  very  limited  amount  of  energy  at 
one  time.  .  .  .  If  we  be  called  upon  to  expend  three 
quarters  of  our  mental  energy  in  disentangling  and  inter- 
preting the  symbols,  it  is  obvious  that  we  shall  have  but  one 
quarter  left  for  the  appreciation  of  the  ideas  of  the  poet." 
This  statement  agrees  not  only  with  the  most  recent 
deductions  of  physiological  aesthetics,  but  also  with  those 
of  common-sense.  The  test  of  form  in  every  case  is  its 
fitness  to  represent,  at  least  clearly,  if  not,  as  it  sometimes 
should,  brilliantly,  every  line  and  color,  every  phase  and 
movement,  every  fact  and  suggestion  of  the  ideas  to  be 
expressed.  If  this  test  be  borne  in  mind,  there  can  still  be 
plenty  of  poetic  failures  from  lack  of  poetic  ideas,  but  no 
failures  from  a  mere  lack  of  the  very  easily  obtained 
knowledge  of  the  rudimentary  principles  of  poetic  tech- 
nique. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

MEANINGS   OF  WORDS    AS    DEVELOPED   BY    ASSOCIATION 
AND   COMPARISON. 

Instinctive  Ejaculatory  Sounds,  and  Reflective  Imitative  Sounds,  becoming 
words  by  Agreement,  in  Fulfilment  of  the  Principle  of  Association  or 
Comparison,  can  represent  but  a  few  Ideas — Other  needed  Words  may 
be  due  to  Agreement  in  using  Arbitrary  Symbols ;  it  is  Philosophical 
to  suppose  them  largely  developed  by  Tendencies  underlying  the  For- 
mation of  Primitive  Words — How  these  Tendencies  lead  to  the  Use  of 
the  same  Word  in  Different  Senses — In  the  case  of  Words  whose 
Meanings  depend  on  Association — How  what  refers  to  the  Material 
conies  to  refer  to  the  Immaterial — Words  whose  Meanings  depend  on 
Comparison — What  refers  to  the  Material  is  by  Comparison  used  for  the 
Immaterial — Great  Varieties  of  Meanings  are  developed  from  the  same 
Word  by  Continued  Processes  of  Association  and  Comparison — A 
Knowledge  of  this  fact,  and  its  Results  are  Necessary  to  an  Intelligent 
Use  of  Language. 

T  N  the  former  part  of  this  work  we  have  considered  ejac- 
ulatory  and  imitative  sounds  and  the  influence  of 
the  methods  of  their  formation  and  arrangement  upon 
poetic  form,  so  far  as  sounds  determine  this.  We  have 
found  that  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  by  associating 
certain  utterances  with  certain  circumstances  in  which 
they  are  used,  or  by  comparing  them  with  the  sounds  of 
objects  to  which  they  refer,  men  in  primitive  ages  learn 
what  the  utterances  mean,  and,  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, agree  to  accept  them  as  representative  of  similar 
meanings  whenever  or  wherever  heard.  How  to  pro- 
duce at  will  these  representative  sounds  solves  the  first 


POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

problem  of  all  language.  But  it  requires  no  proof  to 
show  that  no  large  number  of  the  objects  that  engage  our 
thoughts  can  be  represented  either  by  their  own  peculiar 
ejaculations  or  by  imitative  sounds.  For  this  reason  it  is 
held  by  some  that  perhaps  the  majority  of  our  words  are 
merely  arbitrary  symbols,  by  which  they  mean  that  agree- 
ment which  is  undoubtedly  a  chief  factor  in  giving  definite 
meanings  to  sounds  is  also  a  chief  factor  in  giving  us  the 
sounds  themselves.  While  there  are  reasons  for  this 
theory,  it  may  be  pushed  too  far,  and  hardly  seems  to 
accord  with  what  we  know  of  the  action  of  the  mind  with 
reference  to  other  analogous  matters.  It  seems  more 
philosophical  to  attribute  the  enlargement  of  the  primi- 
tive vocabulary  mainly  to  further  developments  of  mental 
processes  in  some  way  analogous  to  those  to  which  the 
formation  of  the  very  earliest  words  is  attributable. 
Facts,  too,  so  far  as  they  are  known,  sustain  this  view. 

To  show  that  this  is  so,  let  us  recall  for  a  moment  the 
methods  of  forming  a  word  from  an  ejaculatory  or 
imitative  sound.  This  will  start  us  in  the  right  place  from 
which  to  observe  how  continuous  operations  of  the  same 
method  necessarily  lead  to  the  formation  from  the  same 
sound,  or  the  same  slightly  modified,  of  a  multiplicity 
of  words.  Attention  was  directed  in  the  former  part  of 
this  work  to  the  fact  that  the  organs  of  speech  are  so 
constructed  that  usually  the  earliest  articulated  sounds 
made  by  the  babe  are  mama  and  papa ;  and  that  the 
earliest  persons  to  whom  they  are  addressed  are  the 
mother  and  father ;  and  that,  for  this  reason,  people 
speaking  in  scores  of  different  languages  have  come  to 
associate  mama,  which,  as  a  rule,  is  uttered  first,  with  an 
appeal  to  the  mother  ;  and  papa  with  an  appeal  to  the 
father.  In  a  similar  way,  but  attributed  to  comparison 


SECONDARY  MEANINGS  OF  WORDS.  175 

rather  than  association,  it  was  said  that  imitative  sounds 
become  words.  A  man  says  whiz  because  the  sound  that 
he  makes  compares,  at  least  sufficiently  for  his  purpose, 
with  one  that  he  has  heard ;  and  when  he  and  others  have 
uttered  it  many  times,  it  comes,  by  common  consent,  to 
mean  what  it  does,  and  nothing  else. 

Now,  with  these  facts  in  view,  can  we  not  perceive  that, 
after  a  few  words  have  been  formed,  the  formation  of 
others  from  them  is  inevitable?  It  is  so,  in  the  first  place, 
because  of  the  tendency  of  the  mind  to  carry  further  in 
the  same  direction  the  same  processes  of  association  and 
comparison  that  have  led  to  the  formation  of  these 
earliest  words  ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  because  of  the 
mind's  tendency  to  economize  labor.  After  men  have 
accumulated  a  stock  of  primitive  words,  and  have  begun 
to  reflect  upon  them,  and  to  perceive  the  relations  which 
they  sustain  to  other  things,  they  seem  to  recognize,  in 
some  subtle  way,  that  they  can  save  themselves  the 
trouble  of  originating  new  sounds  by  using  the  terms 
already  in  vogue  in  more  than  one  sense.  A  word  apply- 
ing to  one  thing  can  be  made  to  apply  to  an  altogether 
different  thing,  if  only  the  two  are  similar  in  certain  of 
their  features  or  relations.  If  the  principle  connecting 
the  two  is  merely  one  of  association,  if  they  are  merely 
allied,  then  the  new  term  is  produced  by  a  continuation  of 
the  process  underlying  the  formation  of  words  from  ejacu- 
lations. If  the  principle  connecting  the  two  is  one  of 
comparison,  if  they  are  really  alike,  then  the  process 
continues  that  of  forming  words  from  imitative  sounds. 

Very  often  the  two  are  only  associated.  Thus,  a  man 
is  named  after  his  employment,  a  Baker,  a  Smith,  George 
a  husbandman,  Edward  a  protector  of  property  ;  or  after 
his  country,  York  or  Lancaster.  Thus,  a  town  or  city  is 


J/6  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

named  after  a  man,  like  Columbus  or  America.  Thus, 
things  very  subtle  in  their  nature  are  named  after  others 
easily  apprehended.  Take,  for  instance,  one  of  the 
earliest  terms  used  to  indicate  that  in  man,  which,  as 
immaterial,  cannot  be  adequately  represented  by  any 
thing  ejaculatory  or  imitative.  "  When,"  says  Max 
Miiller,  "  man  wished  for  the  first  time  to  grasp  and  ex- 
press a  distinction  "  (and  it  will  be  noticed  that  he  could 
never  have  wished  to  do  this  until  he  had  entirely 
passed  the  period  of  the  formation  of  the  very  earliest 
words)  "  between  the  body  and  something  else  within  him 
distinct  from  the  body,  an  easy  name  that  suggested  itself 
was  breath.  The  breath  seemed  something  immaterial 
and  almost  invisible  ;  and  it  was  clearly  connected  with 
the  life  that  pervaded  the  body,  for  as  soon  as  the  breath 
ceased  the  life  of  the  body  became  extinct.  Hence  the 
Greek  name  tyvxij,  which  originally  meant  breath,  was 
chosen  to  express  at  first  the  principle  of  life  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  decaying  body,  and  afterwards  the 
incorporeal,  the  immaterial,  the  undying,  the  undecaying, 
the  immortal  part  of  man,  his  soul,  his  mind,  his  self." 

There  are  other  cases,  however,  in  which  the  two  things 
for  which  the  same  term  is  used  may  be  compared  ;  and 
in  these  cases,  as  has  been  said,  there  is  a  process  analo- 
gous to  that  of  forming  words  by  imitation.  As  in  imi- 
tation, a  sound  produced  by  the  mouth  is  made  to  refer  to 
an  object  producing  a  similar  sound,  because  the  two  sounds 
are  alike  ;  so  here  a  term  used  for  one  conception  is  made 
to  refer  to  another,  because  the  two  conceptions  are  alike. 
Trench's  "  Study  of  Words,"  contains  a  large  number  of 
exemplifications  of  this.  Notice,  for  instance,  the  way  in 
which  the  word  kind  is  derived  from  the  word  kin.  In 
olden  times,  all  were  supposed  to  be  enemies,  except 


SECONDARY  MEANINGS   OF    WORDS.  1 77 

those  belonging  to  the  same  tribe  or  of  the  same  kin; 
only  these  therefore  were  kind  to  one  another.  But  after 
a  while  all  whose  actions  could  be  compared  to  those  of 
kinned-men  were  called  kind.  Again,  for  centuries  subse- 
quent to  the  time  when  Christianity  had  been  accepted 
by  the  cities  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  inhabitants  of  the 
villages,  or  the  pagani  as  they  were  termed,  remained 
heathen  ;  after  a  while  all  those  who  could  be  compared 
to  the  pagani,  on  account  of  their  religious  beliefs,  were 
termed  pagans.  Later,  in  Europe  the  disciples  of  the 
great  theologian  Duns  Scotus,  were  called  Dunses.  After 
a  while  all  who  might  be  compared  with  these,  in  that 
their  views  differed  from  those  held  ordinarily,  were  called 
dunces. 

In  forming  words  by  comparison,  as  by  association, 
terms  applicable  literally  only  to  material  conceptions 
come  to  refer  after  a  time  to  those  that  are  immaterial. 
Take  words,  for  instance,  describing  the  operations  of  the 
mind.  We  say  that  a  man's  thoughts  are  pure,  clear, 
mixed,  muddled,  or  clouded,  and  that  he  expresses  and  im- 
presses them  upon  others  ;  but  only  to  material  things  like 
water,  wine,  or  the  atmosphere,  can  the  former  class  of 
terms  be  applied  literally  ;  and  only  into  or  out  of  a  mate- 
rial thing  can  another,  and  this  only  a  material  thing,  be 
\\ter3\\y  pressed.  Evidently  terms  of  this  kind  are  used  as 
a  result  of  comparing  the  mental  to  the  material  pro- 
cess, to  which  in  some  regards  it  is  analogous.  Were  it 
not  possible  to  symbolize  the  one  process  in  the  other,  it 
is  obvious  that  many  things  which  we  desire  to  communi- 
cate, would  remain  forever  unexpressed.  We  see,  there- 
fore, how  essential  to  the  very  existence  of  language  is 
this  power  which  enables  us  to  figure  or  picture  an  object 
or  operation  through  referring  to  something  which,  though 


178  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

like  it  in  some  respects,  is  wholly  different  from  it  in 
others  ;  as  different  from  it  as  the  paint  and  canvas  of  a 
portrait  are  from  the  flesh  and  blood  of  the  person  por- 
trayed. We  see,  too,  how  the  element  of  representation, 
which  is  essential  to  all  art,  is  a  factor  in  the  very  consti- 
tution of  language  from  which  poetic  art  is  developed. 
We  see  also  how  the  means  of  representation  are  furnished 
mainly  by  the  objects  and  operations  of  nature  ;  and  this 
not  only  by  those  appealing  to  the  ear,  the  sounds 
of  which  can  be  imitated,  but  also  by  those  appealing  to 
the  eye,  the  appearance  of  which  suggests  words  like 
express  and  impress.  In  fact,  the  uses  to  which  the  sights 
and  sounds  of  nature  are  thus  constantly  put,  make  liter- 
ally true  a  statement  like  this  of  Wordsworth  : 

I  have  learned 

To  look  on  nature,  not  as  in  the  hour 
Of  senseless  youth,  but  hearing  oftentimes 
The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity. 

— Lines  Composed  above  Tintcrn  Abbey. 

Were  it  not  for  nature,  where  would  be  the  music,  the 
voice,  the  language,  the  symbolism,  through  which  only 
thought  can  be  represented  ? 

It  is  superfluous  to  point  out  to  those  at  all  acquainted 
with  this  subject,  how  through  continuing  the  kinds  of 
comparisons  that  have  been  mentioned,  one  word  may 
often  come  to  have  a  large  number  of  very  different 
meanings.  The  noun  stock,  for  instance,  as  Trench 
reminds  us  in  his  "  Study  of  Words,"  is  the  old  past  par- 
ticiple of  the  verb  to  stick,  and  indicates  any  thing  that  is 
fixed  in  its  character.  Hence  we  speak  of  railway  stock, 
family  stock,  gunstocks,  stock  in  trade,  live  stock,  stocks 
that  ships  are  built  on,  etc.  So  from  the  word  post, 
meaning  placed,  we  get  the  terms,  military  post,  official 


SECONDARY  MEANINGS  OF  WORDS,  179 

post,  posting  a   ledger   and  a   letter,  a  post-office,  post- 
haste, etc. 

Though  all  languages  are  largely  composed  of  words, 
the  meanings  of  which  can  be  traced  with  comparative 
ease  to  causes  similar  to  the  ones  just  mentioned,  these 
words  are  so  familiar  to  us,  we  have  become  so  accus- 
tomed to  their  conventional  significance,  that  we  seldom 
pause  to  inquire  how  they  came  to  mean  what  they  do. 
I  can  remember  distinctly  the  moment  when,  as  a  boy,  it 
flashed  upon  my  mind  that  a  term,  having  so  obvious  an 
origin  as  the  Fourth  of  July,  was  not  a  grandiloquent 
word  of  many  syllables,  originated  for  the  purpose  of 
necessarily  suggesting  gunpowder  and  fireworks ;  but 
merely  a  phrase  indicative  of  the  fourth  day  of  the  seventh 
month.  A  similar  revelation  is  constantly  awaiting  the 
mind  that  makes  a  study  of  other  words.  Similar  revela- 
tions, multiplied  by  almost  the  whole  number  of  words 
employed,  must  flash  light  through  all  the  hidden  depths 
that  underlie  the  surface  forms  of  one's  vernacular,  before 
he  can  understand  them,  and  use  them  with  absolute  ap- 
propriateness. Especially  is  this  so  in  the  case  of  the 
words  with  which  we  are  now  dealing, — -the  words  formed 
as  a  result  of  comparison  ;  because  these  contain,  far  more 
decidedly  than  those  derived  from  association,  a  represent- 
ative or  picturesque — what  grammarians  term  a  figura^ 
tive — element.  But  before  we  go  on  to  exemplify  this 
statement,  and  in  doing  so,  to  trace  out  further  than  has 
yet  been  done  how  naturally  the  representative  language  of 
poetry  is  developed  from  ordinary  language,  let  us  con- 
sider  the  subject  in  another  aspect. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

MEANINGS  OF  PHRASES  AS  DETERMINED  BY  ASSOCIATION 
OR  COMPARISON. 

Language,  a  Process  in  which  Words  and  Ideas  represented  by  them  are 
used  consecutively — How  Words  in  Progression  can  represent  Mental 
Processes — How  Acts  in  Progression  do  this  in  Pantomime — How  this 
is  done  when  Words,  as  Symbols,  are  substituted  for  the  Acts  in  Panto- 
mime— How  Subject,  Predicate,  and  Object  are  put  together — Subject, 
Predicate,  and  Object  of  a  Complete  Sentence,  are  the  Beginning, 
Middle,  and  End  of  a  Complete  Process,  of  which  all  the  Parts  of  Speech 
are  Logical  Parts — Examination  of  Certain  Sentences — How  the  Mean- 
ings of  them,  considered  as  Wholes,  depend  on  the  Principle  of  Associa- 
tion or  of  Comparison. 

A  S  was  said,  when  treating  of  the  representative  nature 
of  sounds,  language  is  a  form  for  thought,  and 
thought. implies  mental  activity,  a  process,  a  series  of  sen- 
sations and  experiences,  all  of  them  exerting  more  or  less 
influence  upon  one  another.  A  single  idea  might  be  rep- 
resented in  a  single  word,  but  a  series  of  ideas  necessitates 
a  series  of  words.  How,  now,  can  these  series  of  words 
represent,  with  any  thing  like  accuracy,  internal  processes 
of  the  mind,  together  with  the  necessary  relationships  and 
interactions  that  must  exist  between  their  constituting 
elements  ?  Or,  to  begin  at  the  right  place,  how  can  any 
series  of  external  and  material  elements,  even  though  they 
do  represent  a  process,  represent  a  process  that  takes  place 
in  thought  ?  If  we  can  come  to  understand  this,  it  will  be 


MEANINGS  OF  PHRASES.  l8l 

easy  for  us  to  understand  how,  according  to  a  similar 
analogy,  series  of  words  can  do  the  same. 

Those  of  us  who  have  been  in  countries  with  the  lan- 
guages of  which  we  were  not  familiar,  have,  perhaps, 
improved  our  powers  of  origination,  as  well  as  started 
original  conceptions  in  the  minds  of  those  about  us, 
through  presenting  our  internal  processes  of  thought  to 
men  who  had  not  ears  to  heed  our  English,  in  the  form  of 
pantomime.  What  other  resource  could  we  have,  when 
thirsty  or  sleepy  or  wishing  to  hire  a  hack  or  take  a  sail  ? 
But  suppose  that  we  had  been  shut  out  from  pantomime, 
and  shut  in  to  sound,  how,  according  to  the  same  analogy, 
could  we  have  expressed  our  processes  of  thought  through 
the  latter  medium  ?  Had  we  possessed  the  power  of  ren- 
dering intelligible  to  others  our  references  to  our  internal 
sensations,  as  well  as  to  external  objects  and  operations, 
by  the  use  of  exclamations,  imitative  sounds,  and  words 
derived  from  them  by  association  and  comparison, — how 
could  we  have  combined  all  these  elements  in  such  a  way 
as  to  represent  in  sound  a  process  of  thought  ?  Is  not 
the  answer  simple  ?  Instead  of  taking  two  objects  and 
joining  or  separating  them,  could  we  not  have  taken  two 
names  for  these  objects,  and  joined  or  separated  these  ? 
or,  if  we  wished  to  make  our  meaning  still  more  intelligi- 
ble, joined  the  names  by  putting  between  them  an  inter- 
vening exclamation  expressive  of  assimilation,  or  separated 
them  by  putting  there  an  expression  of  aversion  ?  Could 
we  not  thus  have  represented  in  words  what  circumstances 
had  prevented  us  from  representing  in  pantomime  ?  In- 
stead of  emphatically  flinging  ourselves  on  the  floor,  or  pa- 
thetically resting  our  heads  upon  our  hands,  when,  tired  out 
in  the  evening,  we  desired  to  show  our  wish  to  go  to  bed 
why  might  we  not  have  exclaimed  "  I — bed,"  or  "  I — oh — 


1 82  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

bed  "  ?  Is  not  this  precisely  what,  though  put  in  different 
forms,  we  have  heard  the  foreigner  do,  a  hundred  times, 
perhaps,  when  trying  to  express  in  sound  the  thought 
which  his  ignorance  of  our  language  prevented  him  from 
expressing  fully  ?  Is  not  this  precisely  the  method  through 
which  every  child  begins  the  difficult  process  of  conversa- 
tion— i.  e.,  by  placing  two  words. together,  which  thus  con- 
stitute a  compound  word ;  or  by  uniting  the  two,  one  of 
which  is  used  for  the  subject  of  a  sentence  and  the  other 
for  its  object,  by  a  third,  which  serves  the  purpose  of  a 
predicate  ?  And  it  is  well  to  notice,  too,  in  this  connec- 
tion, that,  whether  used  by  a  foreigner  or  a  child,  the 
predicate  is  always  the  last  essential  factor  of  a  perfect 
sentence  to  be  used  with  accuracy.  "  I  seen  him,"  cried 
a  street-boy  under  my  window  the  other  day ;  "  and  I 
throw'd  a  stone  at  him." 

While  on  this  subject,  in  order  to  show  that  the  use  of 
the  exclamation  for  the  verb  in  the  illustration  of  a  sen- 
tence just  given,  though  fanciful,  is  not  entirely  out  of 
analogy  with  what  is  really  done  in  language,  it  may  be 
interesting  to  recall  what  Max  Miiller  says  of  one  of  our 
most  common  grammatical  forms — it  is.  He  tells  us  that 
this  sound  can  be  traced  back  almost  as  far  in  language  as 
we  can  go.  The  German  says  ist,  the  Roman  est,  the  Slave 
yeste>  the  Greek  esti,  and  the  Hindoo  asti.  But  asti  is  a 
compound  of  the  pronoun  ti  and  the  verb  as,  the  root  of 
which  signifies  to  breathe.  Whatever  breathes  exists  or 
is;  so  that  in  the  oldest  language  in  which  we  find  the 
verb,  it  seems  to  be  only  an  expression  representative  of 
the  fact,  and,  very  probably,  of  the  act  of  aspiration  or 
breathing. 

But,  to  return  from  theory  to  fact,  we  have  found  how 
it  is  possible  to  put  words  together  in  such  a  way  as  to 


MEANINGS  OF  PHRASES.  183 

indicate  a  process.  Indeed,  whenever  we  put  them  to- 
gether in  the  right  way,  they  necessarily  do  indicate  this ; 
for  in  such  cases  we  put  together  sentences,  and  sentences 
invariably  represent,  if  not  physical,  at  least  mental,  pro- 
cesses, the  subject,  as  a  rule,  indicating  the  beginning  of 
them,  the  predicate  the  continuation  of  them,  and  the 
object,  if  there  be  one,  the  end  of  them.  In  fact,  all  the 
different  grammatical  parts  of  speech  and  modifications  of 
them,  viewed  in  one  light,  are  merely  methods  of  repre- 
senting dependencies  and  relationships  of  different  parts 
of  whole  processes,  which,  with  more  or  less  completeness, 
are  represented  by  the  sentences. 

That  we  may  perceive  this  and,  at  the  same  time,  the 
degree  in  which  all  the  different  factors  of  the  phraseology 
may  be  made  to  augment  the  force  of  the  figures  used  in 
single  words,  let  us  examine  a  few  sentences.  As  we  do 
so,  we  shall  find  it  possible  to  class  all  combinations  of 
words  under  two  heads,  corresponding  to  those  under 
which  we  have  already  grouped  single  words.  The  first 
class  includes  those  depending  for  their  meaning  upon  the 
principle  of  association,  and  the  second,  those  depending 
upon  the  principle  of  comparison. 

To  get  our  bearings  here,  let  us  recall  briefly  that  it 
has  been  said,  with  reference  to  the  first  class  of  words, 
that  the  emergencies  or  circumstances  in  which  a  certain 
exclamatory  sound  like  mama  or  papa  is  used,  cause  men, 
on  account  mainly  of  its  associations,  to  accept  it  as  a 
word,  meaning  what  it  does ;  and  that  later,  after  a 
vocabulary  has  been  partly  formed,  the  same  principle  of 
association  causes  them  to  ally  something  for  which  they 
have  a  name  with  some  other  thing,  and  to  use  the  same 
name  for  both,  as  when  they  call  towns  or  implements 
after  their  founders  or  inventors.  It  has  been  said,  again, 


1 84  POETRY  AS  A    REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

with  reference  to  the  second  class  of  words,  that  a  certain 
sound  proceeding  from  an  object  perceived  by  men  is 
imitated  by  their  vocal  organs,  and,  on  account  of  the 
comparison  between  the  two  sounds,  the  one  that  they 
have  produced  is  accepted  as  a  name  for  that  which 
originally  produced  it,  as  when  cuckoo  is  adopted  as  a  term 
of  designation  for  a  certain  bird  ;  and  that  later,  after  a 
vocabulary  has  been  partly  formed,  the  same  principle  of 
comparison  causes  them  to  perceive  that  some  conception 
for  which  they  have  a  term,  is  like  some  other  conception, 
and  to  apply  the  same  term  to  it  also,  as  when  they  use 
the  word  clear  to  refer  both  to  the  atmosphere  and  to  the 
mind. 

In  accordance  with  the  analogy  of  these  two  methods 
of  determining  the  meanings  of  words,  when  used  singly, 
we  shall  find  that  we  determine  also  their  meanings  when 
used  conjointly,  i.  e.,  either  by  the  associations  which, 
when  combined  in  phrases  and  sentences,  the  words  sug- 
gest, or  by  the  comparisons  which  they  embody.  To 
illustrate  this,  suppose  that  one  says  :  "  Their  cultivated 
conversation  and  attire  interfered  with  the  effects  of  their 
depravity."  The  sentence,  so  far  as  concerns  its  meaning, 
is  perfectly  intelligible,  and  this  because  we  have  learned 
to  associate  with  each  of  the  words  used,  cultivated,  con- 
versation, attire,  etc.,  a  certain  definite  conception  ;  and 
this  conception  comes  up  before  the  mind  the  moment 
that  we  hear  them.  But  now,  suppose  the  same  thought 
is  expressed,  as  in  this  sentence  of  Goldsmith  :  "  Their 
finery  threw  a  veil  over  their  grossness."  In  this  latter 
case,  neither  the  word  finery,  nor  threw,  nor  veil,  nor 
grossness,  has  precisely  the  meaning  that  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  associate  with  it.  We  do  not  understand  the 
sentence  precisely,  until  we  consider  it  as  a  whole,  and 


MEANINGS  OF  PHRASES.  1 8$ 

then  not  until  we  consider  that  the  whole  expresses  a 
comparison.  In  other  words,  the  sentence  means  what  it 
does,  not  mainly  on  account  of  the  ordinary  associations 
of  its  words,  but  on  account  of  the  comparison  which  it 
embodies.  Take  another  pair  of  sentences  which  perhaps 
will  illustrate  this  difference  more  clearly.  Let  one  wish 
to  express  an  unfortunate  change  in  the  character  of  a 
man  hitherto  honest.  He  may  say  that  "  His  integrity  is 
impaired  by  severe  temptation " ;  and  in  this  case  his 
meaning  will  be  obvious,  because  men  associate  definite 
meanings  with  the  words  integrity,  impaired,  severe,  and 
temptation.  Instead  of  using  this  language,  however,  the 
man  may  select  words  indicating  a  comparison,  and  a 
series  of  comparisons.  He  may  make  a  picture  of  his 
idea,  representing  the  process  of  the  change  in  character, 
by  describing  the  process  of  an  analogous  change  in 
nature.  He  may  say :  "  His  uprightness  bends  before 
some  pressing  blast."  Notice  how  much  more  definitely 
we  perceive  the  comparison,  the  picture,  in  uprightness 
than  in  integrity,  in  bends  than  in  impaired,  in  pressing 
than  in  severe,  in  blast  than  in  temptation.  In  this  last 
sentence,  we  perceive  at  once,  as  in  a  picture,  the  charac- 
ter that  stood  straight  up,  the  clouds  that  gathered,  the 
storm  that  burst,  and  the  ruin  that  ensued.  The  imma- 
terial process  is  represented  literally  in  the  material  one, 
and  only  in  connection  with  this  latter  have  words  like 
bends,  pressing,  and  blast  any  relevancy. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

POETIC  AND   UNPOETIC  WORDS. 

Words  depending  for  their  Meanings  on  Association  not  necessarily  Prosaic; 
nor  those  depending  on  Comparison  necessarily  Poetic — The  Latter 
necessitate  Imagination  to  originate,  and,  at  first,  to  interpret  them,  but 
after  being  used  become  Conventional — This  the  Natural  Tendency 
of  all  Words — Poets  can  always  cause  Words  to  seem  Poetic.  First,  by 
selecting  those  representing  Poetic  Associations — This  applies  to  Con- 
ventional Words — Second,  by  arranging  Words  imaginatively  so  as  to 
suggest  New  Comparisons  or  Pictures — Why  English  of  Anglo-Saxon 
Origin  is  preferred  by  our  Poets — Have  Familiar  Associations — 
Sounds  fit  Sense — Are  used  by  us  in  Different  Senses — Figures  repre- 
sented in  Compound  Words  Apparent — In  General  more  Significant — 
Why  the  English  Language  is  fitted  to  remain  Poetic. 

TT  is  natural  that  some  may  suppose  that  the  princi- 
pies  unfolded  in  the  last  chapter  would  carry  with 
them  the  inference  that  series  of  words  and  sentences 
like  "  Their  cultivated  conversation  and  attire  interfered 
with  the  effects  of  their  depravity,"  or  "  His  integrity  is 
impaired  by  severe  temptation,"  the  meanings  of  which, 
as  has  been  said,  are  determined  by  the  associations  which 
we  have  with  the  terms  used,  would  be  classed  as  prose  ; 
and  that  series  of  words  and  sentences  like  "  Their  finery 
threw  a  veil  over  their  grossness,"  and  "  His  uprightness 
bends  before  some  pressing  blast,"  the  meanings  of  which 
are  determined  by  the  comparisons  embodied  in  the  ex- 
pressions, would  be  classed  as  poetry.  In  fact,  when  men 
speak  of  poetic  language,  do  they  not  almost  invariably 


POETIC  AND  UNPOETIC  WORDS.  1 87 

refer  to  language  of  the  latter  kind,  i.  e.,  to  words  and 
phrases  full  of  comparisons  and  figures  ?  Let  us  weigh  this 
question  carefully  and  detect,  if  we  can,  just  how  much 
truth  and  how  much  error  is  in  the  idea  underlying  it. 

In  contrasting  the  sentences  quoted  above,  two  things 
claim  our  notice  ;  first,  that  expressions  of  the  compara- 
tive kind,  like  "  His  uprightness  bends  before  some 
pressing  blast,"  call  forth  a  greater  effort  of  the  imagina- 
tion both  to  compose  and  to  interpret  them ;  and  second, 
that  these  expressions  call  forth  a  greater  effort  of  the 
imagination  when  first  produced  or  heard  than  afterwards. 
In  fact,  if  often  used  to  represent  the  same  idea,  there 
comes  to  be  a  time  when  any  number  of  terms  like  up- 
rightness, pressing,  bends,  and  blast  suggest  no  pictures 
whatsoever,  except  to  one  in  search  of  them.  They  be- 
come at  last  no  more  significant  than  words  depending  for 
their  meanings  on  association;  and  often  less  so.  In 
reading  them,  we  are  conscious  of  no  more  than  could  be 
gained  from  unsuggestive  arbitrary  symbols.  Even, 
therefore,  though  in  the  main  poetic  language  were  con- 
fined to  these  words  embodying  comparisons,  this  of  itself 
would  not  suffice  to  keep  the  words  in  such  a  condition 
that  men  would  recognize  the  pictures  in  them. 

When  words  pass  thus  from  the  language  of  imagination 
where  they  start,  into  that  of  mere  conventionality,  they 
move  according  to  a  natural  tendency  exemplified  in 
every  phase  of  intellectual  development.  The  unfamiliar 
never  can  be  understood  by  us  till  classified  on  the  ground 
of  likeness  to  some  other  thing  that  we  have  known 
before.  The  earliest  name  assigned  to  the  unfamiliar 
object  represents  this  fact.  The  Indian's  "  horse  that 
breathes  forth  fire,"  the  "iron  horse,"  the  "locomotive," — 
all,  at  first,  present  the  mind  with  pictures.  But  after  a 


1 88  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

little,  men  select  and  agree  to  use  some  single  term  for  the 
object,  and,  when  the  term  is  uttered,  it  calls  to  mind  this 
object  and  no  other.  In  this  way,  words  in  every  language 
are  constantly  becoming  more  exact  in  meaning,  and  not 
only  so,  but  they  are  constantly  accumulating.  Different 
shades  of  meaning  are  perpetually  assuming  definite  shape 
in  forms  of  thought ;  as,  indeed,  is  needed  where  the 
thought  of  each  succeeding  age  is  constantly  becoming 
more  complex  as  well  as  comprehensive.  Of  course,  as 
words  become  exact  in  meaning,  they  have  less  in  them 
suggestive  of  a  different  meaning.  So,  as  a  language 
grows  conventional  and  scientific,  it  loses  much  of  its 
imaginative  and  poetic  force.  When  men  have  arbitrary 
symbols  to  express  precisely  what  they  wish  to  say,  their 
fancies  do  not  search  for  others  to  suggest  what,  at  best, 
can  but  vaguely  picture  it.  We  hear  them  speak  of  engines 
and  of  locomotives,  not  of  "  horses  breathing  fire." 

The  question  now  arises  :  Amid  circumstances  like  these 
must  poetry  succumb  ?  If  not,  in  what  way  can  the  poet 
overcome  them  ?  Certainly  in  one  way  only — by  recog- 
nizing his  conditions,  and  making  the  most  of  the  material 
at  his  disposal.  He  must  use  a  special  poetic  diction.  In 
doing  this  two  things  are  incumbent  on  him.  The  first  is 
to  choose  from  the  mass  of  language  words  that  have 
poetic  associations.  All  our  words  convey  definite  mean- 
ings not  only,  but  accompanying  suggestions ;  and  some 
of  these  are  very  unpoetic.  Particular  sights  or  sounds  in 
the  material  world,  or  concepts  in  the  mind,  are  instantly 
represented  to  the  imagination,  as  well  as  presented  to 
the  understanding,  when  these  words  are  heard.  For  this 
reason,  therefore,  though  they  do  not  in  themselves  em- 
body comparisons,  they  are  sufficiently  representative, 
for  a  part,  at  least,  of  the  purposes  of  poetry. 


POETIC  AND  UNPOETIC  WORDS.  189 

It  is  words  like  these,  though  not  suggested  in  a  like 
connection,  that  Grant  Allen  mentions  in  his  "  Physio- 
logical ^Esthetics,"  when,  carrying  out  his  theory  that 
"  the  purpose  of  poetry "  is  "  the  production  of  massive 
pleasurable  emotion,"  because  it  "  depends  for  its  effect 
upon  the  unbroken  succession  of  beautiful  ideas  and 
images,"  he  says  that  terms  like  violet,  palfrey,  and  ruby, 
because  suggesting  what  is  more  pleasing,  are  more  poetic 
than  terms  like  cabbage,  donkey,  and  chalk ;  and  terms,  in 
the  sphere  of  light,  like  scarlet,  crimson,  pink,  orange, 
golden,  green,  blue,  azure,  purple,  and  violet,  are  more  poetic 
than  gray,  brown,  dun,  black,  bay,  and  drab.  So  brilliant, 
sparkling,  sheeny,  polished,  lustrous,  luminous,  twinkling, 
glancing,  silvery,  pearly,  are  more  poetic,  he  says,  than 
dull,  dingy,  rough,  turbid ;  and  rounded,  curling,  graceful, 
lithe,  flowing,  are  more  poetic  than  straight,  stiff,  awk- 
ward, and  upright ;  and,  in  the  sphere  of  sound,  terms  like 
clear,  ringing,  silvery,  musical,  sweet,  melodious,  mellow, 
rich,  low,  are  more  poetic  than  shrill,  hoarse,  grating, 
harsh,  loud,  and  croaking ;  and,  in  the  sphere  of  touch, 
terms  like  soft,  waxen,  fleecy,  smooth,  delicate,  slender,  are 
more  poetic  than  hard,  rough,  harsh,  tough,  and  coarse ; 
and,  in  the  sphere  of  smell,  terms  like  fragrant,  sweet,  per- 
fumed, scented,  odorous,  are  more  poetic  than  stench  and 
stinking;  and,  in  the  sphere  of  taste,  terms  like  luscious, 
melting,  honeyed,  sugared,  are  more  poetic  than  bitter,  sour, 
biting,  acid,  acrid ;  and,  in  the  sphere  of  organic  sensations, 
terms  like  cool,  fresh,  buoyant,  warm,  easy,  pure,  are  more 
poetic  than  hot,  close,  weary,  cold,  and  chilly. 

Most  of  the  words  thus  instanced, — only  a  small  propor- 
tion of  those  in  Mr.  Allen's  lists, — depend  but  little  for 
their  poetic  or  unpoetic  effects,  on  any  comparison  sug- 
gested by  their  origin  or  expressed  in  the  passage  in 


1 90  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

which  they  are  placed.  They  depend  for  these  mainly 
upon  the  ideas  that  they  conventionally  represent — ideas 
invariably  associated  with  them,  whenever  they  are  heard. 
This  fact  is  enough  to  show  us  that  the  distinction 
between  poetry  and  prose  lies  deeper  than  can  be  de- 
termined solely  by  the  etymological  character  of  the 
phraseology. 

But  there  is  a  second  thing  incumbent  on  the  poet  in 
view  of  the  present  unpoetic  tendencies  of  language.  He 
must  choose  from  the  mass  of  language  words  that  em- 
body poetic  comparisons, — choose  them  not  only  nega- 
tively, by  excluding  terms  too  scientific  or  colloquial, 
which,  with  material  and  mean  associations,  break  the 
spell  of  the  ideal  and  spiritual ;  but  positively,  by  going 
back  in  imagination  to  the  view-point  of  the  child,  and 
(either  because  arranging  old  words  so  as  to  reveal  the 
pictures  in  them,  or  because  originating  new  expressions 
of  his  own)  by  substituting  for  the  commonplace  that 
which  is  worthy  of  an  art  which  should  be  aesthetic. 
Wordsworth  did  not  exclude  the  unpoetic,  disenchanting 
comparison,  when  in  his  otherwise  beautiful,  She  was  a 
Phantom  of  Delight,  he  wrote  of  his  love  : 

And  now  I  see  with  eye  serene 
The  very  pulse  of  the  machine. 

And  Shelley  did  go  back  to  the  view-point  of  the  child, 
when  he  wrote  : 

And  multitudes  of  dense,  white,  fleecy  clouds 
Were  wandering  in  thick  flocks  along  the  mountains, 
Shepherded  by  the  slow,  unwilling  wind. 

— Prometheus  Unbound,  ii.,  I. 

Only  a  moment's  thought  will  reveal  to  us  that  the 
principles  just  unfolded  are  closely  related — in  connection, 


A  NGL  0-  SA  XON  DERI  VA  TIVES.  1 9 1 

however,  with  one  or  two  other  considerations — to  that 
preference  which  almost  all  English  poets  exhibit  for 
words  of  native  or  Anglo-Saxon  origin,  as  distinguished 
from  those  derived  from  foreign  sources,  especially  from 
the  Latin  through  the  French.  "  Remuneration  ?  "  says 
Shakespear's  clown  Costard  l ;  "  O  that  's  the  Latin  word 
for  three  farthings."  "  Are  you  aware,"  says  the  author2  of 
the  "Strange  Adventures  of  a  Phaeton"  to  his  heroine, 
"  that,  at  a  lecture  Coleridge  gave  in  the  Royal  Institu- 
tion in  1808,  he  solemnly  thanked  his  Maker  that  he  did 
not  know  a  word  of  that  frightful  jargon,  the  French  lan- 
guage ?  "  From  the  few  contrasted  expressions  consid- 
ered a  little  while  ago,  we  can  understand  what  Coleridge 
with  his  fine  poetic  conceptions  probably  felt.  Concealed, 
threw  a  veil  over, — depravity,  grossness, — integrity,  upright- 
ness,— impaired,  bends, — severe,  pressing, — and  others  might 
be  added  to  the  list,  intelligence,  understanding, — defer, 
put  off, — divest,  strip  off, — retire,  go  to  bed.  No  one  can 
fail  to  see  how  much  more  capacity  for  producing  repre- 
sentative effects  there  is  in  the  latter  words  of  these  pairs 
than  in  the  former.  This  is  so  for  several  reasons.  To 
begin  with,  as  Herbert  Spencer  suggests  in  his  "  Essay 
on  Style,"  the  words  of  Anglo-Saxon  origin  include  most 
of  those  used  in  our  youth,  in  connection  with  which, 
therefore,  through  long  familiarity  with  them,  we  have 
the  most  definite  possible  associations ;  whenever  we  hear 
them,  therefore,  they  seem  preeminently  representative. 

Then,  too,  we  hear  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  derivatives,  to 
a  greater  extent  than  in  the  foreign,  the  sounds  which, 
when  originally  uttered,  were  meant  to  be  significant  of 
their  sense.  In  fact,  almost  all  the  words  instanced  in 
another  place  as  having  sounds  of  this  kind  were  Anglo- 

1  Love 's Labor  Lost,  iii.,  I.  a  William  Black. 


I Q2  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Saxon.  On  the  contrary,  almost  all  our  words  derived 
from  the  Latin  through  the  French  have  suffered  a  radi- 
cal change  in  sound,  both  in  the  French  language  and  in 
our  own.  Therefore  their  sounds,  if  ever  significant  of 
their  meanings,  can  scarcely  be  expected  to  be  so  now. 

Again,  we  know,  as  a  rule,  the  history  of  our  Anglo- 
Saxon  terms,  inasmuch  as  we  still  use  them  in  their  dif- 
ferent meanings  and  applications,  as  developed  by  associ- 
ation and  comparison.  But  foreign  words  are  usually 
imported  into  our  language  in  order  to  designate  some 
single  definite  conception,  and  often  one  very  different 
from  that  which  they  designated  originally.  All  of  us, 
for  instance,  can  see  the  different  meanings  of  a  word  like 
way  or  fair  and  the  connections  between  them ;  but  to 
most  of  us  words  like  dunce  and  pagans,  from  the  Latin 
Duns  and  pagani,  have  only  the  effects  of  arbitrary  symbols. 

One  other  reason  applies  to  compound  words.  If  the 
different  terms  put  together  in  these  exist  and  are  in  pres- 
ent use  in  our  own  language,  as  is  the  case  with  most  of 
our  native  compounds,  then  each  part  of  the  compound 
conveys  a  distinct  idea  of  its  separate  meaning;  so 
that  we  clearly  perceive  in  the  word  its  different  fac- 
tors. For  instance,  the  terms  uprightness,  overlook,  under- 
writer, understanding,  pastime,  all  summon  before  the 
mind  both  of  the  ideas  which  together  make  up  the  word. 
We  recognize,  at  once,  whatever  comparison  or  picture  it 
represents.  In  compound  words  of  entirely  foreign  ori- 
gin, on  the  contrary,  it  is  almost  invariably  the  case  that, 
at  least,  one  of  the  factors  does  not  exist  at  present  in  our 
own  tongue.  Integrity  meant  a  picture  to  the  Roman. 
But  none  of  us  use  the  word  from  which  its  chief  factor  is 
derived.  So  we  fail  to  see  the  picture.  Nor  do  we  use 
either  factor  of  the  words  depravity,  defer,  retire. 


ANGLO-SAXON  DERIVATIVES.  193 

For  reasons  like  these  our  words  of  Anglo-Saxon  origin 
are  more  representative  of  their  sense,  and  hence  more 
forcible  and  expressive,  than  our  words  of  foreign  extrac- 
tion, even  if,  at  times,  less  elegant  and  more  homely. 
Homeliness,  however,  is  not  a  wholly  unpleasant  charac- 
teristic. "  Who  can  enjoy  a  chat  with  a  man,"  says  a 
writer  in  one  of  the  old  numbers  of  the  London  Saturday 
Review,  "  who  always  talks  of  women  as  females,  and  of  a 
man  as  an  individual ;  with  whom  things  are  never  like, 
but  similar ;  who  never  begins  a  thing,  but  commences  it ; 
who  does  not  choose,  but  elects ;  who  does  not  help,  but 
facilitates ;  nor  buy,  but  always  purchases ;  who  calls  a 
beggar  a  mendicant ;  with  whom  a  servant  is  always  a 
domestic  when  he  is  not  a  menial ;  who  calls  a  house  a  resi- 
dence, in  which  he  does  not  live  but  resides ;  with  whom  a 
place  is  always  a  locality,  and  things  do  not  happen  but 
transpire.  The  little  girl  working  in  the  brick-fields,  who 
told  the  commissioners,  '  We  swills  the  spottles  off  us 
faces  before  we  has  us  dinners,'  made  them  understand 
exactly  the  degree  of  cleansing  she  went  through.  If  the 
time  ever  comes  when  she  will  say  instead,  '  We  perform 
our  ablutions  before  we  dine,'  more  will  be  left  to  guess- 
work. The  cook-maid  of  the  future  may  count  up  the 
dishes  she  has  to  wash,  and  expatiate  on  the  toil  of  her 
task  in  pedantic  English  ;  but  when  the  char-woman  of 
the  present  day  says  :  '  He  fouled  a  matter  o'  six  plates,' 
there  is  a  protest  against  luxury  in  the  use  of  a  verb  that 
conveys  more  than  the  simple  numbers  would  do  if  twice 
told." 

The  lack  of  representative  power  in  the  majority  of 
words  introduced  from  foreign  languages,  is  probably 
one  reason  why,  from  Homer  to  Shakespear,  poets  have 
ranked  highest  who  have  written  at  an  early  stage  in  the 


194  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

history  of  a  nation's  language,  before  it  has  become  cor- 
rupted by  the  introduction  of  foreign  words  and  phrases. 
It  may  furnish  one  reason,  too,  why  Dante,  near  the  end 
of  his  life,  thought  fit  to  deliver  lectures  to  the  people 
of  Ravenna  upon  the  use  of  their  vernacular.  It  may  ex- 
plain why  Goethe,  at  the  beginning  of  his  career,  turned 
his  back  upon  the  fashionable  French  language,  and  gave 
himself  to  the  cultivation  of  the  neglected  tongue  of  his 
fatherland.  At  any  rate,  it  does  explain,  as  has  been  said 
before,  why  most  of  the  great  poets  of  England,  from 
Chaucer  to  Tennyson,  have  been  distinguished  among 
other  things  for  their  predominating  use  of  words  derived 
from  the  Anglo-Saxon.  These  words  still  exist  in  our 
tongue  ;  and  fortunately,  notwithstanding  the  natural  ten- 
dency of  all  words  to  grow  less  poetic,  they  have  lost  little 
of  their  original  significance  and  force ;  because  side  by 
side  with  them  there  exist  other  words,  almost  synony- 
mous, derived  mainly  from  Latin  sources.  The  fact  that 
these  latter  by  common  consent  are  used  almost  exclu- 
sively for  the  technical  purposes  of  science,  philosophy, 
and  trade,  thus  leaving  the  Anglo-Saxon  terms  to  the 
slighter  changes  and  deteriorations  that  take  place  in 
literature,  may  furnish  the  best  reason  that  we  have  for 
hoping  that  this  composite  language  of  ours  will  continue 
to  be  for  centuries  in  the  future,  as  it  has  been  in  the 
past,  perfectly  fitted  to  give  form  to  the  grandest  poetry. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PLAIN  AND   FIGURATIVE   LANGUAGE. 

Two  Kinds  of  Language  used  in  Poetry,  that  depending  for  its  Meaning  on 
Association  and  that  depending  on  Comparison  —  Distinction  between 
the  Term  Figurative  Language,  as  applied  to  Poetry  and  as  used  in 
ordinary  Rhetoric  —  Figures  of  Rhetoric  containing  no  Representative 
Pictures  :  Interjection,  Interrogation,  Apostrophe,  Vision,  Apophasis, 
Irony,  Antithesis,  Climax  —  Figures  of  Rhetoric  necessitating  Represen- 
tative Language:  Onomatopoeia,  Metonymy,  Synecdoche,  Trope, 
Simile,  Metaphor,  Hyperbole,  Allegory  —  Laws  to  be  observed,  and 
Faults  to  be  avoided,  in  using  Similes  and  Metaphors  —  When  Plain 
Language  should  be  used  —  And  when  Figurative.  • 


the  facts  noticed  in  the  last  chapter,  we  may  infer 
that  two  kinds  of  language  —  whether  we  apply  this 
term  to  single  words  or  to  consecutive  ones  —  can  be 
used  in  poetry  :  that  which  depends  for  its  meaning  upon 
the  associations  which  the  words  suggest,  and  that  which 
depends  upon  the  comparisons  which  they  embody.  The 
former  corresponds  in  most  of  its  features,  but  not  in  all 
of  them,  to  what  is  ordinarily  called  plain  language,  and 
its  words  have  a  tendency  to  appeal  to  us  like  arbitrary 
symbols.  The  latter  corresponds  in  a  similar  way  to  what 
is  called  figurative  language,  and  its  words  have  a  tendency 
to  appeal  to  us  like  pictures. 

A  distinction  needs  to  be  drawn,  however,  between  the 
term  figurative  language  as  it  is  generally  applied  to  poetic 
phraseology,  and  the  same  term  as  used  in  rhetoric.  Many 
of  the  so-called  "  figures  of  rhetoric  "  scarcely  necessitate 


196  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

using  any  actual  figure  at  all,  in  the  sense  of  represent- 
ing one  phase  or  process  through  mentioning  another  to 
which  it  is  compared.  They  are  little  more  than  modifica- 
tions of  plain  language.  The  moment  we  recall  some  of 
them,  this  fact  will  be  apparent.  Take,  for  instance,  what  is 
termed  Interjection,  the  using  of  an  interjection  for  a  verb, 
as  in,  "  Oh  for  a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness  "  ;  or  take 
Interrogation,  the  using  of  a  question  for  a  direct  state- 
ment, as  in,  "  Who  then  is  Paul,  and  who  is  Apollos,  but 
ministers  by  whom  ye  believed  ?  "  or  take  Apostrophe,  the 
turning  of  a  statement  into  an  invocation,  as  in,  "  O  death, 
where  is  thy  sting?  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?  "  or 
take  Vision  or  Imagery,  the  representation  of  what  is  in 
the  past  through  the  use  of  the  historical  present,  as  in 
"  Caesar  leaves  Gaul,  crosses  the  Rubicon,  and  enters 
Italy,"  instead  of  "  left  Gaul,"  etc. ;  or  take  Apophasis, 
Paralipsis,  or  Omission,  the  pretended  suppression  of  what 
one  is  all  the  time  mentioning,  as  in,  "  I  say  nothing  of 
the  notorious  profligacy  of  his  character,  nothing  of 
the  reckless  extravagance  with  which  he  has  wasted  an 
ample  fortune  "  ;  or  take  Irony,  the  statement  of  a  fact  or 
idea  through  using  words  which  literally  interpreted  mean 
the  opposite  of  what  is  intended,  as  in,  "  Oh  yes,  you  are 
honest,  you  are,  your  actions  show  it !  "  or  take  Antithesis, 
the  placing  of  opposite  thoughts  in  juxtaposition  so  as  to 
heighten  the  effect  of  each  by  contrast,  as  in,  "  Though 
grave  yet  trifling,  zealous  yet  untrue  "  ;  or  take  Climax, 
the  arrangement  of  a  series  of  words,  clauses  or  sentences 
in  such  a  way  that  each,  to  the  end  of  the  passage,  is  of 
greater  importance  than  the  one  preceding  it,  as  in,  "  He 
not  only  spared  his  enemies,  but  continued  them  in  em- 
ployment ;  not  only  continued  them  in  employment,  but 
advanced  them  "  ; — all  these  "  figures  of  rhetoric  "  can  be 


FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  197 

used,  as  will  be  recognized,  without  any  very  apparent 
exercise  of  the  principle  of  representation. 

There  are  others,  however,  of  which  this  is  not  true. 
One  of  these,  Onomatopoeia,  under  the  head  of  imitative 
sounds,  as  also  several  "  figures  of  syntax  "  rather  than  "  of 
rhetoric,"  have  been  considered  in  the  former  part  of  this 
work,  and  do  not  immediately  concern  us  here,  where  we 
are  dealing  with  the  representation  of  one  phase  or  pro- 
cess through  employing  words  that  refer  to  another.  Of 
the  figures  that  do  concern  us,  it  may  be  said,  in  general, 
that  they  all  have  a  tendency  to  present  the  thought  in 
some  picturesque  way.  In  all  of  them  some  special  phase 
or  process,  which  can  be  perceived,  is  used  in  order  to 
bring  vividly  before  the  mind  some  other  like  it,  which  can- 
not be  perceived, — at  least,  as  easily.  Ordinarily  they  are 
used  in  order  to  illustrate  some  general  principle  more  or 
less  abstract  in  its  nature,  and  of  wide  applicability,  as 
where  Jacob  in  the  Scriptures  is  made  to  say :  "  Judah  is 
a  lion's  whelp,"  or  Paul  to  say :  "  For  me  to  live  is 
Christ,"  each  statement  putting  into  the  concrete  form 
of  a  picture  what  it  would  take  pages  to  express  in  full. 

These  figures,  in  which  the  pictures  are  perceptible,  can 
be  classified  under  two  heads,  corresponding  to  those  al- 
ready used  in  classifying  words ;  they  may  be  said  to  de- 
pend for  their  meaning  largely  upon  the  principle  of  asso- 
ciation, or  entirely  upon  that  of  comparison.  The  chief  of 
the  former  class  of  figures — that,  in  fact,  of  which  all  of 
the  class  are  varieties — is  Metonymy.  By  this  is  meant  a 
change  of  names  between  things  related  :  as,  e.g.,  between 
cause  and  effect,  as  in :  "  When  every  rood  of  ground 
maintained  its  man,"  instead  of  "all  the  products  of  the 
ground,"  and  "  Gray  hairs  should  be  respected,"  instead 
of  "old  age";  between  place  and  its  inhabitants }  as  in: 


198  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

"  America  is  disgraced  by  speculators/'  instead  of  "  the 
people  of  America  "  ;  between  the  sign  and  the  thing  sig- 
nified, as  in  :  "The  sceptre  shall  not  depart  from  Judah," 
instead  of  "  the  royal  succession  "  ;  between  subject  and  its 
attribute,  as  in :  "A  sleighful  of  youth  and  health,"  in- 
stead of "  the  young  and  healthy  "  ;  between  progenitor  and 
posterity,  as  in :  "  Hear,  O  Israel,"  instead  of  "  descend- 
ants of  Israel "  ;  between  container  and  thing  contained,  as 
in  :  "  Our  ships  opened  fire,"  instead  of  "  the  sailors  "  in 
them ;  between  the  possessor  and  the  thing  possessed,  as 
in :  "  Drove  the  bristled  lips  before  him,"  instead  of  "  the 
man  with  the  lips  "  ;  or  between  the  material  and  the  thing 
made  from  it,  as  in  :  "  His  steel  gleamed  on  high,"  instead 
of  his  "  sword." 

A  special  form  of  metonymy  is  termed  Synecdoche,  which 
means  the  using  of  the  name  of  a  part  for  that  of  the 
whole,  or  the  name  of  the  whole  for  that  of  a  part,  or  of  a 
definite  number  for  an  indefinite,  as  in  these  :  "  The  sea  is 
covered  with  sails,"  instead  of  "  ships  "  ;  "  Our  hero  was 
gray,"  instead  of  "  his  hair  "  ;  "  and  "  Ten  thousand  were 
on  his  right  hand,"  instead  of  "  a  large  number." 

Trope  is  usually  considered  to  be  a  general  term  apply- 
ing to  all  turns  of  expression  made  through  the  use  of 
single  words,  whether  in  the  way  of  metonymy,  synec- 
doche, or  metaphor.  But  some  hold  that  the  trope  em- 
bodies the  principle  of  metonymy  applied  not,  as  that 
figure  is,  to  nouns  but  to  adjectives.  Thus  by  a  trope, 
according  to  Macbeth's  "  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature," 
an  adjective  describing  one  operated  on  is  assigned  to  the 
cause,  as  in,  "the  weary  way  "  or  "  the  merry  bells  "  ;  an 
adjective  belonging  to  a  subject  is  bestowed  on  one  part  or 
member  of  it,  as  in,  "  religious  footsteps  "  ;  an  adjective 
true  of  an  agent  is  applied  to  his  instrument,  as  in,  "  coward 


SIMILE  AND  METAPHOR.  199 

sword  "  ;  an  adjective  belonging  to  the  possessor  is  applied 
to  the  thing  possessed,  as  in,  "  The  gentleman  with  foolish 
teeth  " ;  an  adjective  descriptive  of  a  season,  place,  or 
person  is  assigned  to  an  object  connected  with  it,  as  in, 
"  Winding  its  sultry  horn  "  ;  an  adjective  proper  to  the 
cause  is  joined  to  its  effect,  as  in,  "  the  sweet  load  " ;  and 
an  adjective  qualifying  the  thing  worn  is  made  to  qualify 
the  wearer  of  it,  as  in,  "  The  dogs  far  kinder  than  their 
purple  masters." 

We  now  come  to  the  figures  based  directly  and  entirely 
on  the  principle  of  comparison  ;  and,  as  they  are  the  most 
clearly  figurative,  and  as  it  is  in  using  them  that  mistakes 
in  imagery  are  most  likely  to  occur,  and  as,  if  correctly 
used,  they  involve  the  correct  use  of  all  imagery  of  this 
kind, — in  short,  as  they  are  typical  of  every  form  of  rep- 
resentative expression,  it  is  to  these  mainly  that  attention 
will  be  confined  in  our  further  discussions  of  this  subject. 
The  first  of  these  is  the  Simile.  In  this,  the  comparison 
between  one  entity  and  another  is  made  explicitly,  and 
the  two  are  usually  joined  by  the  words  like,  as,  or  so,  as 
in,  "  He  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by  the  rivers,"  "  Christ 
is  like  a  life-boat."  The  second  is  the  Metaphor.  In  this, 
the  comparison  is  made  implicitly ;  it  is  taken  for 
granted  that  the  reader  will  supply  the  missing  links,  and 
no  connecting  like,  as,  or  so  is  used.  "He  shall  be  a  tree 
planted  by  the  rivers,"  and  "  Christ  is  a  life-boat,"  are 
metaphors.  Here  are  others  : 

And  when  the  lark,  the  laureate  of  the  sun, 
Doth  climb  the  east,  eager  to  celebrate 
His  monarch's  crowning. 

— A  Life  Drama,  ^  :  Alex.  Smith. 

I  've  learned  to  prize  the  quiet  lightning  deed  ; 
Not  the  applauding  thunder  at  its  heels, 
Which  men  call  fame. 

— Idem,  13. 


200  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  third  figure  is  Hyperbole,  which  need  not,  but,  as  a 
fact,  usually  does,  involve  comparison.  In  the  latter  case, 
it  is  merely  a  simile  with  one  of  its  factors  exaggerated, 
as  in,  "  They  were  swifter  than  eagles,  they  were  stronger 
than  lions."  The  fourth  figure  is  Allegory.  This  is  an 
extended  simile,  in  which,  however,  only  one  of  the  two 
things  compared  is  described  at  length,  as  in  "  Thou  hast 
brought  a  vine  out  of  Egypt,  thou  has  cast  out  the 
heathen  and  planted  it.  Thou  preparedst  room  before  it, 
and  didst  cause  it  to  take  deep  root,  and  it  filled  the  land. 
The  hills  were  covered  with  the  shadow  of  it,  and  the 
boughs  thereof  were  like  the  goodly  cedars."  It  will  be 
noticed  that  the  last  two  figures  involve  no  principles 
that  do  not  apply  equally  to  the  first  two.  For  this 
reason,  our  discussion  of  figurative  language,  as  used  in 
poetry,  can  practically  be  narrowed  down  to  little  more 
than  a  treatment  of  the  uses  and  abuses  of  the  simile  and 
the  metaphor. 

Certain  laws,  with  reference  to  the  employment  of 
these  figures,  have  been  determined  by  the  criticism  of 
the  past,  and  are  recorded  as  accepted  principles  in  every 
ordinary  Rhetoric.  It  may  be  well  to  refresh  our  memories 
by  recalling  these  laws,  as  preliminary  to  what  is  to  be  said 
hereafter.  The  truth  underlying  them  all  is  the  fact,  well 
understood  with  reference  to  both  the  simile  and  the 
metaphor,  that  nothing  is  gained  by  any  use  of  these 
which  does  not  add  to  the  effect  of  the  thought  to  which 
they  give  expression.  For  this  reason,  they  are  ac- 
knowledged to  be  faulty  when  the  resemblance  between 
the  things  compared  is  too  slight  to  render  the  picture 
apparent,  as  in  this : 

Give  me  thy  crown. — Here,  Cousin,  seize  the  crown  ; 
On  this  side,  my  hand  ;  and  on  that  side,  thine. 


SIMILE  AND  METAPHOR.  2OI 

Now  is  the  golden  crown  like  a  deep  well, 
That  owns  two  buckets,  filling  one  another  ; 
The  emptier  ever  dancing  in  the  air, 
The  other  down  unseen  and  full  of  water  ; 
That  bucket  down  and  full  of  tears  am  I, 
Drinking  my  griefs  whilst  you  mount  up  on  high. 

—Richard  II.  ,  ir.,  i:  Shake  spear. 

Or  too  trite  to  render  the  picture  striking,  as  in  repeti- 
tions of  old,  familiar,  often-noticed  resemblances,  like 
these  : 

Hearts  firm  as  steel,  as  marble  hard, 
'Gainst  faith  and  love  and  pity  barred, 
Have  quaked  like  aspen  leaves  in  May 
Beneath  its  universal  sway. 

t  2  :  Scott. 


Or  too  apparent  to  need  mention,  as  in  this,  because  all 
women  are  so  much  alike  that  the  picture  is  not  helped 
by  directing  attention  to  more  than  one  : 

To  Pales,  or  Pomona,  thus  adorn'd 
Likest  she  seem'd  —  Pomona  when  she  fled 
Vertumnus  —  or  to  Ceres  in  her  prime, 
Yet  virgin  of  Proserpina  from  Jove. 

—  Paradise  Lost,  g  :  Milton. 

Or  too  unintelligible  -,  as  in  this,  because  one  of  the  things 
compared  is  not  well  known  : 

What,  dullard  ?  we  and  you  in  smothery  chafe, 
Babes,  baldheads,  stumbled  thus  far  into  Zin 
The  Horrid     ,     .     . 
.     .     .     Potsherd  him,  Gibeonites  ! 

—  Sordello,  3  :  Browning. 

Or  too  unequal,  either  because  the  subject  illustrated  is 
too  great  and  dignified  for  that  which  is  compared  to  it, 
as  in  this  : 

And  now  I  see  with  eye  serene 
The  very  pulse  of  the  machine  ; 


2O2  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

A  Being  breathing  thoughtful  breath, 
A  Traveller  between  life  and  death. 

— She  Was  a  Phantom  of  Delight :   Wordsworth. 

Or  because  the  subject  illustrated  is  too  small  and  insig- 
nificant for  that  which  is  compared  to  it,  as  in  this : 

Loud  as  a  bull  makes  hill  and  valley  ring, 

So  roared  the  lock  when  it  released  the  spring. 

— Odyssey,  21  :  Pope's  Trans. 

The  above  principles  need  only  to  be  mentioned  to  have 
their  reasonableness  recognized.  To  some  of  them  ref- 
erence will  be  made  hereafter ;  but  attention  will  be  con- 
fined chiefly  to  the  two  following,  because  in  poetic  repre- 
sentation it  is  these  that  chiefly  interfere  with  excellence. 
The  first  is  the  "  far-fetched  "  simile  or  metaphor,  as  it  is 
called.  In  this,  minor  points  of  resemblance  are  sought 
out  and  detailed  to  such  an  extent  that  the  main  thought 
is  liable  to  be  forgotten,  while  attention  is  concentrated 
on  subjects  that  really  are  of  no  importance  except  so  far 
as  they  illustrate  it.  This  fault  and  its  effects  will  be  am- 
ply treated  in  Chapter  Twenty-sixth. 

The  second  fault,  to  which  special  attention  will  be 
directed,  is  the  "  blending  "  and  "  mixing  "  of  similes  or 
metaphors.  Both  are  manifestations  of  one  tendency. 
The  "  blending "  occurs  when  plain  and  figurative  ex- 
pressions are  used  with  reference  to  the  same  object  in  the 
same  clause  or  sentence.  It  is  this 'fault,  introduced  into 
the  text  without  warrant  by  the  words  used  in  the  transla- 
tion, that  causes  Homer  in  the  following  to  speak  of  hav- 
ing a  column  torn  from  one's  embrace  without  a  kind  adieu. 
Of  course  the  picture  here  is  not  true  to  life,  and  in  this 
sense  is  not  representative  : 

Now  from  my  fond  embrace  by  tempests  torn, 
Our  other  column  of  the  state  is  borne, 
Nor  took  a  kind  adieu  nor  sought  consent. 

'  — Odyssey,  4  :  Pope's  Trans. 


SIMILE  AND  METAPHOR.  2O3 

The  "  mixing  "  occurs  when  two  different  figures  apply- 
ing to  the  same  object  are  used  in  immediate  connection ; 
as  where  Tennyson  says,  as  if  one  had  to  dip  in  order 
to  seey  or  could  see  with  a  dipper  ; 

For  I  dipt  into  the  future  far  as  human  eye  could  see. 

—Locksley  Hall. 

Or  Addison,  as  if  he  could  bridle  a  skip,  or  launch  a  horse  : 

I  bridle  in  my  struggling  muse  with  pain, 
That  longs  to  launch  into  a  bolder  strain. 

— Letter  from  Italy. 

A  still  more  important  consideration  with  reference  to 
these  figures,  and  one  that  underlies  the  entire  use  of  the 
language  embodying  them,  is  to  determine  in  what  cir- 
cumstances thought  and  feeling  should  be  expressed  in 
them  rather  than  in  plain  language.  Fortunately,  as  an 
aid  to  our  answer,  both  forms  of  language  are  natural  to 
conversation  ;  and  by  finding  out  their  uses  here,  we  may 
come  to  understand  the  principles  that  should  control  their 
use  in  poetry.  To  begin  with,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that 
the  object  of  language  is  to  cause  others  to  share  our  men- 
tal processes,  to  communicate  to  them  the  substance  of 
our  ideas  and  their  associated  feelings.  In  doing  this,  it 
represents  both  what  a  man  has  observed  in  the  external 
world  and  what  he  has  experienced  in  his  own  mind — not 
either  one  or  the  other,  but  invariably  both  of  them.  If  a 
man,  for  instance,  show  us  a  photograph  of  something  that 
he  has  seen,  he  holds  before  our  eyes  precisely  what  has  been 
before  his  own  eyes  ;  but  if  he  describe  the  scene  in  words, 
he  holds  before  our  mind  only  those  parts  of  it  that  have 
attracted  his  attention  ;  and  not  only  so,  but  added  to 
these  parts  many  ideas  and  emotions  of  his  own  that  were 
not  in  the  scene  but  occurred  to  him  when  viewing  it. 


204  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

A  similar  added  element  from  the  man's  mind  accompanies 
every  endeavor  of  his  to  tell  what  he  has  heard,  or  even, 
at  some  other  time,  thought  or  felt.  From  these  facts,  it 
follows  that  the  aim  of  language,  so  far  as  this  can  be  de- 
termined by  what  it  actually  and  necessarily  does,  is  to 
cause  the  same  effects  to  be  produced  in  the  hearer's 
mind  that  are  experienced  in  the  speaker's  mind.  Now  if 
one,  when  talking,  conceive  that  this  is  an  easy  aim  to 
attain  ;  that  what  he  has  heard  or  seen  or  thought  or  felt, 
needs  only  to  be  told  in  clear,  intelligible  phraseology,  in 
order  to  produce  in  another  the  same  effects  as  in  himself, 
then  he  will  be  content  with  conventional  modes  of  ex- 
pression ;  he  will  use  in  the  main  plain  language,  whether 
referring  to  what  he  has  heard,  as  in  this : 

And  there  was  mounting  in  hot  haste  :  the  steed, 
The  mustering  squadron,  and  the  clattering  car, 
Went  pouring  forward  with  impetuous  speed, 
******* 

And  near,  the  beat  of  the  alarming  drum 
Roused  up  the  soldier  ere  the  morning  star  ; 
While  thronged  the  citizens  with  terror  dumb, 

Or  whispering,  with  white  lips, — "  The  foe  !  they  come  !  they  come  ! 

—Childe  Harold,  3  :  Byron. 

Or  to  what  he  has  seen,  as  in  this  : 

Then  from  the  shining  car 
Leaped  Hector  with  a  mighty  cry,  and  seized 
A  ponderous  stone,  and,  bent  to  crush  him,  ran 
At  Teucer,  who  had  from  his  quiver  drawn 
One  of  his  sharpest  arrows,  placing  it 
Upon  the  bowstring.     As  he  drew  the  bow, 
The  strong-armed  Hector  hurled  the  jagged  stone, 
And  smote  him  near  the  shoulder,  where  the  neck 
And  breast  are  sundered  by  the  collar-bone, — 
A  fatal  spot.     The  bowstring  brake  ;  the  arm 
Fell  nerveless  ;  on  his  knees  the  archer  sank, 
And  dropped  the  bow.     Then  did  not  Ajax  leave 


SIMILE  AND  METAPHOR. 

His  fallen  brother  to  the  foe,  but  walked 
Around  him,  sheltering  him  beneath  his  shield, 
Till  two  dear  friends  of  his — Menestheus,  son 
Of  Echius,  and  Alastor  nobly  born — 
Approached,  and  took  him  up  and  carried  him, 
Heavily  groaning,  to  the  hollow  ships. 

—Iliad,  8  :  Bryants  Tr. 

Or  to  what  he  has  thought,  as  in  this  : 

By  the  world, 

I  think  my  wife  be  honest,  and  think  she  is  not  ; 
I  think  that  thou  art  just,  and  think  thou  art  not. 
I  '11  have  some  proof. 

— Othello,  iii.,  3  :  Shake  spear. 

Ay,  you  did  wish  that  I  would  make  her  turn  ; 
Sir,  she  can  turn,  and  turn,  and  yet  go  on  ; 
And  turn  again  ;  and  she  can  weep,  sir,  weep  ; 
And  she  *s  obedient,  as  you  say, — obedient, — 
Very  obedient. 

— Idem,  iv.,  I. 

Or  to  what  he  has  felt,  as  in  this : 

Six  feet  in  earth  my  Emma  lay  ; 

And  yet  I  loved  her  more, 
For  so  it  seemed,  than  till  that  day 

I  e'er  had  loved  before. 

And  turning  from  her  grave,  I  met, 

Beside  the  churchyard  yew, 
A  blooming  girl  whose  hair  was  wet 

With  points  of  morning  dew. 

A  basket  on  her  head  she  bare  ; 

Her  brow  was  smooth  and  white  ; 
To  see  a  child  so  very  fair, 

It  was  a  pure  delight ! 
***** 

There  came  from  me  a  sigh  of  pain 

Which  I  could  ill  confine  ; 
I  looked  at  her,  and  looked  again, 

And  did  not  wish  her  mine  ! 

—  Two  April  Mornings  :    Wordsworth. 


206  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

On  the  other  hand,  however,  if  a  man  conceive  that 
the  end  at  which  he  is  aiming  is  difficult  to  attain  ;  that 
what  he  has  heard,  or  seen,  or  thought,  or  felt,  either  on 
account  of  its  own  nature,  or  of  the  nature  of  those  whom 
he  is  addressing,  is  hard  for  them  to  realize  in  its  full 
force,  and  with  all  its  attendant  circumstances,  then,  as 
his  object  is  to  convey  not  merely  an  apprehension 
but  a  comprehension,  both  complete  and  profound,  of 
that  of  which  he  has  to  speak,  he  will  dwell  upon  it ;  he 
will  repeat  his  descriptions  of  it ;  he  will  tell  not  only 
what  it  is,  but  what  it  is  like ;  in  other  words,  he  will  try 
to  produce  the  desired  effect,  by  putting  extra  force  into 
his  language,  and,  in  order  to  do  this,  inasmuch  as  the 
force  of  language  consists  in  its  representative  element, 
he  will  augment  the  representation  by  multiplying  his 
comparisons  ;  his  language  will  become  figurative.  It  will 
be  so  for  the  same  reason  that  the  language  of  a  savage 
or  a  child,  even  when  giving  utterance  to  less  occult  ideas, 
is  figurative, — because  he  feels  that  the  words  at  his  com- 
mand are  inadequate  to  express  or  impress  his  meaning 
completely.  Notice  the  exemplifications  of  these  state- 
ments in  the  following,  referring  to  what  has  been  heard  : 

A  cry  that  shivered  to  the  tingling  stars, 
And  as  it  were  one  voice,  an  agony 
Of  lamentation,  like  a  wind  that  shrills 
All  night  in  a  waste  land  where  no  one  comes. 

— Mort  d' Arthur  :   Tennyson. 

And  the  wide  hum  of  that  wild  host 
Rustled  like  leaves  from  coast  to  coast, 
As  rose  the  Muezzin's  voice  in  air 
In  midnight  call  to  wonted  prayer  ; 
It  rose,  that  chanted  mournful  strain, 
Like  some  lone  spirit's  o'er  the  plain  ; 
'T  was  musical,  but  sadly  sweet, 
Such  as  when  winds  and  harp-strings  meet, 


SIMILE  AND  METAPHOR.  2O/ 

And  take  a  long,  unmeasured  tone, 
To  mortal  minstrelsy  unknown. 

—  The    Siege  of  Corinth  :  Byron. 

To  what  has  been  seen : 

As  when  the  ocean  billows,  surge  on  surge, 
Are  pushed  along  to  the  resounding  shore 
Before  the  western  wind,  and  first  a  wave 
Uplifts  itself,  and  then  against  the  land 
Dashes  and  roars,  and  round  the  headland  peaks 
Tosses  on  high  and  spouts  its  spray  afar, 
So  moved  the  serried  phalanxes  of  Greece 
To  battle,  rank  succeeding  rank,  each  chief 
Giving  command  to  his  own  troops. 

— Iliad,  4  :  Bryant's  Tr. 

To  what  has  been  thought : 

I  had  rather  be  a  kitten,  and  cry  mew, 

Than  one  of  these  same  metre  ballad-mongers  ; 

I  had  rather  hear  a  brazen  can'stick  turn'd, 

Or  a  dry  wheel  grate  on  the  axle-tree  ; 

And  that  would  set  my  teeth  nothing  on  edge, 

Nothing  so  much  as  mincing  poetry. 

'Tis  like  the  forc'd  gait  of  a  shuffling  nag. 

— i  Henry  IV.,  iii.,  I  :  Shakespear* 

She  moves  as  light  across  the  grass 

As  moves  my  shadow  large  and  tall ; 
And  like  my  shadow,  close  yet  free, 
The  thought  of  her  aye  follows  me, 

My  little  maid  of  Moreton  Hall, 

— A  Mercenary  Marriage  :  D.  M.  Mulock* 

And  to  what  has  been  felt : 

Oh,  what  a  noble  mind  is  here  o'erthrown  ! 

The  courtier's,  scholar's,  soldier's  eye,  tongue,  sword  ; 

Th'  expectancy  and  rose  of  the  fair  State, 

The  glass  of  fashion,  and  the  mould  of  form, 

Th'  observed  of  all  observers,  quite,  quite  down  ! 

And  I,  of  ladies  most  deject  and  wretched, 

That  suck'd  the  honey  of  his  music  vows, 

Now  see  that  noble  and  most  sovereign  reason, 

Like  sweet  bells  jangled,  out  of  tune  and  harsh. 

—Hamlet,  iii.,  I  :  Shakespear. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PROSE  AND   POETRY  ;   PRESENTATION  AND    REPRESENTA- 
TION  IN  ITS  VARIOUS   FORMS. 

Tendencies  of  Plain  Language  toward  Prose,  and  of  Figurative  toward 
poetry — Plain  Language  tends  to  Present  Thought,  and  Figurative  to 
Represent  it — All  Art  Representative — But  Plain  Language  may  rep- 
resent, and  Figurative  may  present — Poetic  Representation  depends 
upon  the  Character  of  the  Thought — If  a  Poet  thinks  of  Pictures, 
Plain  Language  describing  them  will  represent  according  to  the  Method 
of  Direct  Representation — If  not  of  Pictures,  he  may  illustrate  his 
Theme  by  thinking  in  Pictures,  and  use  Figurative  Language  accord- 
ing to  the  Methods  of  Indirect  Expressional  or  Descriptive  Representa- 
tion— Pure  Representation  is  solely  Representative — Alloyed  Repre- 
sentation contains  some  Presentation. 

*T^HERE  is  a  subtle  feeling  in  the  minds  of  many,  but 
especially  of  those  who,  with  strong  imaginations 
and  delicate  aesthetic  sensibilities,  have  not  improved  their 
critical  faculties  by  a  wide  acquaintance  with  the  best 
poetry,  that  figurative  language  only  is  in  the  highest 
sense  poetic.  Whenever  a  feeling  like  this  exists,  it 
should  be  treated  with  respect ;  we  may  be  sure  that 
there  is  a  reason  for  it.  The  feeling  in  the  particular 
case  before  us,  leads  to  an  erroneous  inference,  as  we  must 
conclude  from  considerations  already  noticed,  and  this  con- 
clusion will  be  confirmed  as  we  go  on.  But  how  about  the 
origin  of  the  feeling  ?  It  springs,  as  seems  most  likely, 
from  the  fact  that  plain  and  figurative  language  are  judged 
less  from  the  effects  that  they  produce  when  actually  used 


PRESENTA  TION  AND  REPRESENTA  TION.         2OQ 

in  poetry,  than  from  the  principles  that  appear  to  be  ex- 
emplified in  their  formation.  If  carried  to  an  extreme, 
the  tendencies  that  lead  to  plain  language  move  unmis- 
takably toward  prose,  as  those  that  lead  to  figurative  lan- 
guage move  toward  poetry.  The  error  just  mentioned  lies 
in  mistaking  tendencies  for  a  consummation  of  them. 

These  tendencies,  however,  are  important  in  their  bear- 
ings upon  the  real  distinction  that  separates  prose  from 
poetry.  Let  us  for  a  little  consider  them. 

Plain  language,  as  we  have  traced  it,  is  a  development  of 
the  instinctive  methods  of  expression  used  in  natural  ejac- 
ulations. These,  by  being  associated  with  the  circum- 
stances in  which  they  are  uttered,  come  to  be  used 
as  words ;  and,  in  a  broad  way  of  generalizing,  there  is  a 
sense  in  which  all  words,  no  matter  how  originated,  when- 
ever they  come  to  mean  what  they  do  on  account  of  this 
principle,  can  be  put  in  this  class.  But  now,  if  we  think  a 
little,  we  shall  recognize  that,  from  the  moment  of  the 
utterance  of  the  first  ejaculation  to  the  use  of  the  latest 
sound  which  means  what  it  does  merely  because  conven- 
tionally associated  with  an  idea  to  which  it  stands  in  the 
relation  of  an  arbitrary  symbol,  the  tendency  exemplified 
is  a  desire  to  present  rather  than  to  represent  the  thought 
or  feeling. 

Just  the  contrary,  however,  is  true  of  figurative  lan- 
guage. We  have  traced  it  to  a  development  of  the  reflec- 
tive methods  of  expression  which  arise  when  one  hears  and 
imitates  for  a  purpose  the  sounds  about  him.  The  same 
tendency  is  carried  out  when  he  puts  these  sounds  to- 
gether, after  they  have  become  conventional  words,  so  as 
to  represent  the  relations  between  the  sights  about  him,  as 
in  the  terms  express,  understand ;  in  fact,  it  is  carried  out  in 
every  case  in  which  there  is  a  use  of  imaginative  or  figura- 


2IO  POETRY  AS  A  REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

tive  language.  This  latter  language,  then,  from  its  earliest 
source  to  its  utmost  development,  exemplifies  a  tendency 
to  represent  rather  than  merely  to  present  the  thought  or 
feeling. 

This  work  has  constantly  maintained  that  art  is  repre- 
sentative ;  and,  bearing  this  in  mind,  we  shall  begin  to  get 
a  glimmer  of  the  reason  why  poetry,  which  is  the  artistic 
form  of  language,  is  associated  in  many  minds  with  only 
these  representative  words  or  figurative  modes  of  expres- 
sion. But  we  have  not  yet  reached  the  whole  truth  with 
reference  to  the  matter. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  thus  far  we  have  been 
dealing  mainly  with  single  words  or  with  a  few  of  them 
arranged  in  single  sentences.  Each  of  these  words  or  sen- 
tences may  be  supposed  to  express  some  single  phase  or 
process  of  the  mind's  experiences.  But  to  express  a 
series  of  these  processes,  as  words  usually  do  when  used 
at  all,  we  need  a  series  of  words  and  sentences.  Now  it  is 
conceivable  that,  though  each  factor  of  the  series  when 
taken  by  itself,  should  merely  present  some  single  phase, 
all  the  factors  when  taken  together  should  represent 
a  series  of  these  phases  ;  and  it  is  equally  conceivable  that 
though  each  factor  of  the  series  when  taken  by  itself 
should  represent  a  mental  phase,  all  the  factors  when 
taken  together  should  merely  present  a  series  of  these 
phases.  In  other  words,  it  is  conceivable  that  owing  to 
the  artistic  use,  not  of  single  words  but  of  series  of  them, 
plain  language  should  represent  the  thought  and  feeling, 
and  therefore  be  poetic ;  and  it  is  equally  conceivable  that 
figurative  language  should  merely  present  these,  and  there- 
fore be  prosaic ;  prose,  so  far  as  it  is  determined  by  the 
mode  of  communicating  thought,  being  the  presentative 
form  of  that  of  which  poetry  is  the  representative. 


PRESENTA  TION  AND  REPRESENTA  TION.         2 1 1 

These  conditions  which  we  have  considered  conceiv- 
able, we  shall  find  to  be  true  in  fact ;  and  for  this  reason 
poetic  methods  of  communicating  thought,  considered  as 
a  whole,  must  be  judged,  precisely  as  was  said  in  another 
place  of  poetic  sounds,  by  the  degree  in  which  they  repre- 
sent the  thought  or  feeling  to  which  they  give  expression. 
Now  what,  in  the  last  analysis  must  determine  the  method 
of  the  communication  ? — what  but  the  method  in  which 
the  thought  itself  is  conceived  in  the  mind  of  the  writer? 
If  he  think  in  pictures,  his  words,  whether  or  not  pictur- 
esque or  figurative  in  themselves,  will  describe  pictures 
Otherwise  they  will  not.  Moreover,  if  we  reflect  a  mo- 
ment, we  shall  recognize  that  there  are  many  times  when 
he  can  think  in  pictures,  even  when  he  is  not  thinking  of 
pictures ;  as,  for  instance,  when  he  is  impressing  a  truth 
upon  the  mind  through  using  a  story,  a  parable,  or  an 
illustration,  as  we  call  it.  In  this  case,  his  method,  if  it 
accurately  convey  to  us  that  which  is  passing  before  his 
own  mind,  must  be  representative,  and  not  merely  pre- 
sentative. 

Accordingly  we  find,  when  we  get  to  the  bottom  of  our 
subject,  that  the  figurative  or  the  representative  element 
in  poetry  may  exist  in  the  conception  as  well  as  in 
the  phraseology.  If  it  exist  in  only  the  conception,  we 
have  representation  in  plain  language,  or  direct  representa- 
tion ;  if  in  the  phraseology,  by  which  is  meant  now  the 
words  or  expressions  illustrating  the  main  thought,  we 
have  representation  in  figurative  language,  or  illustrative 
representation,  which,  in  turn,  as  will  be  shown  presently  ? 
it  is  possible,  but  not  practicable,  to  divide  again  into  the 
expressional  and  the  descriptive.  If,  in  any  of  these 
ways,  all  the  significance  expressed  in  a  passage  be  repre- 
sented,  the  form  of  the  representation  will  in  this  work 


212  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

be  termed  pure ;  if  a  part  of  the  significance  be  merely 
presented,  the  representation  will  be  termed  alloyed ;  and 
in  the  degree  in  which  this  is  the  case,  it  will  be  shown 
by  and  by  that  the  whole  is  prosaic. 

Pure  representation  is  pictorial  in  character,  as  we 
should  expect  from  the  pictorial  tendency  of  which  we 
have  found  it  to  be  an  outgrowth,  and  its  methods  are 
not  wholly  unlike  those  of  painting.  When  composing  in 
accordance  with  them,  the  poet  indicates  his  thought  by 
using  words  referring  to  things  that  can  be  perceived; 
and  in  this  way  he  causes  the  imaginations  of  those  whom 
he  addresses  to  perceive  pictures.  Alloyed  representa- 
tion, while  following  in  the  main  the  methods  of  that 
which  is  pure,  always  contains  more  or  less  of  something 
which  cannot  be  supposed  to  have  been  perceived,  at 
least  not  in  connection  with  circumstances  like  those  that 
are  being  detailed.  For  this  reason,  that  which  is  added 
to  the  representation  is  like  alloy,  interfering  with  the 
pureness  and  clearness  of  the  pictures  presented  to  the 
imaginations  of  those  addressed.  It  appeals  to  them  not 
according  to  the  methods  of  poetry,  but  of  science  or 
philosophy,  or  of  any  kind  of  thought  addressed  merely 
to  the  logical  understanding. 

The  distinction  between  pure  and  alloyed  representa- 
tion lies  at  the  basis  of  all  right  appreciation  of  poetic 
effects.  Yet  a  man  is  more  fortunate  than  most  of  his 
fellows,  if  among  all  his  literary  friends  he  finds  one  who 
really  understands  the  difference  between  the  two.  Be- 
cause, therefore,  of  the  general  ignorance  with  reference  to 
this  distinction,  as  also  of  its  intrinsic  subtlety,  both  forms 
of  representation  will  now  be  explained  and  illustrated  in 
full. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PURE  DIRECT  REPRESENTATION. 

In  what  sense,  and  how  far,  Thought  and  Feeling  can  be  Communicated 
Representitively — Pure  Representation,  as  used  by  Tennyson — Hunt, 
etc. — Pure  Direct  Representation,  as  used  by  Homer,  Milton,  Shake- 
spear,  Morris,  Heine,  Tennyson,  Arnold,  Burns,  Gilbert,  etc. — Exten- 
sive Use  of  this  Method  in  all  Forms  of  Poetry. 

T  T  has  been  maintained  all  along  in  this  work  that  the 
forms  of  art  represent  partly  that  which  is  passing  in 
the  mind  of  the  artist  at  the  time  of  composition,  and  partly 
that  which  he  has  perceived  in  nature.  The  art  products 
— to  state  in  a  single  expression  all  that  they  can  do — 
symbolize  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  artist  through 
an  arrangement  of  the  phenomena  of  nature  which  repre- 
sents them.  If  we  are  to  approach  the  subject  before  us 
in  a  logical  way,  therefore,  it  seems  appropriate  that  we 
should  first  determine  in  what  sense  and  to  what  extent 
thoughts  and  feelings  can  be  expressed  at  all  in  any 
definite  way  according  to  the  methods  of  representation. 
Afterwards  we  can  go  on  and  ask  how  a  man  desirous  of 
representing  his  own  thoughts  and  feelings  would  use  the 
phenomena  of  nature  in  order  to  do  this. 

In  considering  the  first  of  these  questions,  attention 
will  be  directed  only  to  examples  of  pure  representation. 
This  will  enable  the  reader  to  notice  not  only  in  what 
sense  and  how  far  thoughts  and  feelings  can  be  repre- 
sented as  a  possibility ;  but  also,  in  connection  with  this, 


214  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

how  they  actually  are  represented  when  poetry  is  at  its 
best.  Under  these  circumstances,  as  has  been  said,  the 
poetry  contains  nothing  except  representation ;  and  for 
this  reason,  if  for  no  other,  it  is  very  properly  termed 
pure.  Its  composer,  when  producing  it,  confines  himself 
to  his  legitimate  work.  Poetry,  as  we  have  found,  is  an 
art ;  and  art  does  not  consist  of  thoughts,  explanations, 
or  arguments  concerning  things,  but  of  images  or  pictures 
representing  them  ;  and  there  can  be  no  legitimate  image 
or  picture,  except  of  what  may  be  supposed  to  be  per- 
ceived. If,  for  instance,  certain  persons  are  doing  certain 
things,  one  will  probably  draw  some  inferences  from  their 
actions  with  reference  to  their  motives,  and  he  will  have  a 
right  to  tell  his  inferences — in  prose  ;  but  not,  as  a  rule,  in 
poetry.  In  this,  he  must  picture  what  he  has  observed, 
and  leave  others,  as  free  as  he  himself  has  been,  to  infer 
what  they  choose.  At  the  same  time,  in  the  degree  in 
which  he  is  an  artist,  his  picture  will  be  of  such  a  charac- 
ter as  to  impel  others  to  draw  from  it  the  same  inference 
that  he  himself  has  drawn.  To  illustrate  how  a  genuine 
artist  can  make  his  product  influence  others  thus,  let  me 
quote  Tennyson's  description  of  what  followed  the  read- 
ing, by  the  poet  Hall,  of  his  epic  on  the  "  Death  of  Ar- 
thur." The  reader  will  remember,  perhaps,  that  when 
Hall  began  to  read,  he  described  the  poem  as  being 
"  nothing  worth."  The  mention  of  this  fact  will  explain 
the  use  of  the  phrase  "  There,  now, — that  's  nothing,"  in 
the  quotation. 

Here  ended  Hall,  and  our  last  light,  that  long 
Had  winked  and  threatened  darkness,  flared  and  fell ; 
At  which  the  Parson,  sent  to  sleep  with  sound, 
And  waked  with  silence,  grunted  "  Good  !  "  but  we 
Sat  rapt ;  it  was  the  tone  with  which  he  read — 
Perhaps  some  modern  touches  here  and  there 


P URE  DIRECT  REPRESENTA  TION.  2 1 5 

Redeemed  it  from  the  charge  of  nothingness, — 

Or  else  we  loved  the  man,  and  prized  his  work  ; 

I  know  not ;  but  we  sitting,  as  I  said, 

The  cock  crew  loud  :  as  at  that  time  of  year 

The  lusty  bird  takes  every  hour  for  dawn  : 

Then  Francis,  muttering,  like  a  man  ill-used, 

"  There,  now, — that 's  nothing  ! "  drew  a  little  back, 

And  drove  his  heel  into  the  smouldered  log, 

That  sent  a  blast  of  sparkles  up  the  flue  ; 

And  so  to  bed. 

— Mort  dl Arthur  :  Tennyson. 

Is  not  this  simple  tale  of  what  was  done,  much  more 
expressive  than  would  have  been  a  long  prosy  description 
of  what  was  felt?  This  example  shows,  therefore,  that 
poetry  may  be  strictly  representative  of  external  sights 
and  sounds, — may  confine  itself  to  that  which  reproduces 
for  the  imagination  a  picture  ;  and  yet  may  be  equally 
and  in  the  highest  sense  representative  also  of  those  ideas 
and  feelings  which  exist  only  in  the  mind. 

Nor  must  it  be  supposed  that  this  kind  of  representa- 
tion is  unfitted  for  clear  and  forcible  communication  of 
thought.  Notice  in  the  following  how  effectively  Leigh 
Hunt  represents  his  moral : 

Abou  Ben  Adhem  (may  his  tribe  increase  !) 

Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 

And  saw  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room, 

Making  it  rich  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom, 

An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold  : 

Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold, 

And  to  the  presence  in  the  room  he  said  : 

"  What  writest  thou  ?  " — the  vision  raised  its  head, 

And,  with  a  look  made  of  all  sweet  accord, 

Answered  :  "  The  names  of  those  who  love  the  Lord.** 

"And  is  mine  one?"  said  Abou.     "  Nay,  not  so," 

Replied  the  angel.     Abou  spake  more  low, 

But  cheerly  still,  and  said  :  "  I  pray  thee,  then, 

Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellow-men." 


2l6  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  angel  wrote  and  vanished.     The  next  night 

It  came  again  with  a  great  wakening  light, 

And  showed  the  names  whom  love  of  God  hai  blessed, — 

And  lo  !  Ben  Adhem's  name  led  all  the  rest ! 

— Abou  Ben  Adhem. 

Equally  successful  in  indicating  their  thoughts  were  the 
authors  of  the  following  : 

Jack  brags  he  never  dines  at  home, 

With  reason,  too,  no  doubt — 
In  truth,  Jack  never  dines  at  all 

Unless  invited  out. 

— Elegant  Extracts. 

The  golden  hair  that  Galla  wears 

Is  hers — who  would  have  thought  it  ? — 

She  swears  't  is  hers,  and  true  she  swears, 
For  I  know  where  she  bought  it. 

— Harrington  :  Idem. 

It  has  been  said  that  pure  representation  may  be  either 
direct  or  illustrative.  Let  us  look  now  at  some  examples 
of  it  in  both  forms.  After  doing  so,  we  shall  be  better 
prepared  to  pass  on  and  compare  with  them  the  various 
departures  from  it  exemplified  in  alloyed  representation. 
Direct  pure  representative  poetry,  as  has  been  intimated, 
pictures  to  the  mind,  without  the  use  of  figurative  lan- 
guage, a  single  transaction  or  series  of  transactions  in  such 
a  way  as  to  influence  the  thoughts  of  him  who  hears  the 
poetry,  precisely  as  they  would  have  been  influenced  had  he 
himself  perceived  the  transaction  or  series  of  transactions 
of  which  the  poetry  treats.  The  works  of  Homer,  as  in 
fact  of  all  the  classic  writers,  are  filled  with  examples 
of  this  kind  of  representation.  Here  are  some  of  them, 
with  an  occasional  exceptional  expression  in  illustrative 
representation,  indicated  by  italics  : 

Then,  from  the  fleet,  illustrious  Hector  led 
The  Trojans,  and  beside  the  eddying  stream, 


PURE  DIRECT  REPRESENTATION. 

In  a  clear  space  uncumbered  by  the  slain, 
Held  council.     There,  alighting  from  their  cars, 
They  listened  to  the  words  that  Hector  spake,— 
Hector  beloved  of  Jove.     H  e  held  a  spear, 
In  length  eleven  cubits,  with  a  blade 
Of  glittering  brass,  bound  with  a  ring  of  gold. 
On  this  he  leaned,  and  spake  these  winged  words : 
"  Hear  me,  ye  Trojans,  Dardans,  and  allies. 
But  now  I  thought  that,  having  first  destroyed 
The  Achaian  host  and  fleet,  we  should  return 
This  night  to  wind-swept  Ilium.     To  their  aid 
The  darkness  comes,  and  saves  the  Greeks,  and  saves 
Their  galleys  ranged  along  the  ocean  side. 
Obey  ive  then  the  dark-broived  night ;  prepare 
Our  meal,  unyoke  the  steeds  with  flowing  manes, 
And  set  their  food  before  them     .     .     ." 

******* 

So  Hector  spake,  and  all  the  Trojan  host 
Applauded  ;  from  the  yoke  forthwith  they  loosed 
The  sweaty  steeds,  and  bound  them  to  the  cars 
With  halters  ;  to  the  town  they  sent  in  haste 
For  oxen  and  the  fatlings  of  the  flock, 
And  to  their  homes  for  bread  and  pleasant  wine, 
And  gathered  fuel  in  large  store.     The  winds 
Bore  up  the  fragrant  fumes  from  earth  to  heaven. 

—  The  Iliad,  8  :  Bryant's  Tr. 

Notice  in  these  descriptions  of  contests  in  battle,  how 
the  directness  and  exactness  of  the  language  used  aug- 
ment its  representative  power. 

Beneath  the  collar  bone 

It  pierced  him  and  passed  through  ;  the  brazen  point 
Came  out  upon  the  shoulder  ;  to  the  ground 
He  fell,  his  armor  clashing  with  his  fall. 
Then  Ajax  smote  the  valiant  Phorcys,  son 
Of  Phoenops,  in  the  navel.     Through  the  mail 
The  brazen  weapon  broke,  and  roughly  tore 
The  entrails.     In  the  dust  he  fell,  and  clenched 
The  earth  with  dying  hands. 

"Idem,  17. 


2 1 8  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  sharp  stone  smote  his  forehead  as  he  held 
The  reins,  and  crushed  both  eyebrows  in  ;  the  bone 
Resisted  not  the  blow  ;  the  warrior's  eyes 
Fell  in  the  dust  before  his  very  feet. 
******* 

He  spake  and  set  his  heel 

Upon  the  slain,  and  from  the  wound  drew  forth 
His  brazen  spear  and  pushed  the  corpse  aside, 
And  with  the  weapon  hurried  on. 

— Idem,  16. 

In  the  last  paragraph  of  "  Paradise  Lost,"  too,  we  have 
a  fine  example  of  direct  representation  : 

In  either  hand  the  hastening  angel  caught 

Our  lingering  parents,  and  to  the  eastern  gate 

Led  them  direct,  and  down  the  cliff  as  fast 

To  the  subjected  plain  ;  then  disappeared. 

They  looking  back,  all  the  eastern  side  beheld 

Of  paradise,  so  late  their  happy  seat, 

Waved  over  by  that  flaming  brand,  the  gate 

With  dreadful  faces  thronged  and  fiery  arms. 

Some  natural  tears  they  dropped,  but  wiped  them  soon. 

The  world  was  all  before  them,  where  to  choose 

Their  place  of  rest,  and  Providence  their  guide. 

They,  hand  in  hand,  with  wandering  steps  and  slow, 

Through  Eden  took  their  solitary  way. 

—P.  L.t  12. 

There  are  many  instances  of  the  same  in  Shakespear 
also.     Here  are  some  : 

You  all  do  know  this  mantle  ;  I  remember 

The  first  time  ever  Caesar  put  it  on  ; 

'T  was  on  a  summer's  evening  in  his  tent 

That  day  he  overcame  the  Nervii. 

Look  !  in  this  place  ran  Cassius'  dagger  through  ; 

See  what  a  rent  the  envious  Casca  made  ; 

Through  this  the  well-beloved  Brutus  stabb'd  ; 

And,  as  he  plucked  his  cursed  steel  away, 

Mark  how  the  blood  of  Caesar  followed  it. 

— Julius  C<zsar,  iii.,  2. 


PURE  DIRECT  REPRESENTATION. 

A  figure  like  your  father, 
Arm'd  at  all  points,  exactly,  cap-a-pie, 
Appears  before  them,  and  with  solemn  march 
Goes  slow  and  stately  by  them. 

•— Hamlet,  i.,  2. 

Among  the  writers  of  the  present  day,  William  Morris, 
perhaps,  has  been  the  most  successful  in  this  kind  of  repre- 
sentation.  Notice  the  following  from  his  story  of  "  Cupid 
and  Psyche": 

They  ceased,  and  Psyche,  pondering  o'er  their  song, 
******* 

About  the  chambers  wandered  at  her  will, 

And  on  the  many  marvels  gazed  her  fill, 

Where'er  she  passed  still  noting  everything  ; 

Then  in  the  gardens  heard  the  new  birds  sing, 

And  watched  the  red  fish  in  the  fountains  play, 

And  at  the  very  faintest  time  of  day 

Upon  the  grass  lay  sleeping  for  a  while 

'Midst  heaven-sent  dreams  of  bliss  that  made  her  smile  ; 

And,  when  she  woke,  the  shades  were  lengthening, 

So  to  the  place  where  she  had  heard  them  sing 

She  came  again,  and  through  a  little  door 

Entered  a  chamber  with  a  marble  floor, 

Open  atop  unto  the  outer  air, 

Beneath  which  lay  a  bath  of  water  fair, 

Paved  with  strange  stones  and  figures  of  bright  gold, 

And  from  the  steps  thereof  could  she  behold 

The  slim-leaved  trees  against  the  evening  sky 

Golden  and  calm,  still  moving  languidly. 

So  for  a  time  upon  the  brink  she  sat, 

******* 

And  then  arose  and  slowly  from  her  cast 

Her  raiment,  and  adown  the  steps  she  passed 

Into  the  water,  and  therein  she  played, 

Till  of  herself  at  last  she  grew  afraid, 

And  of  the  broken  image  of  her  face, 

And  the  loud  splashing  in  that  lonely  place. 

—  The  JEarthly  Paradise. 


220  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

And,  lest  any  should  think  that  this  kind  of  representa- 
tion is  confined  to  epic  and  dramatic  art,  here  is  one  of 
Heine's  lyrics.  Could  any  thing  illustrate  better  than  this 
does,  the  fact  that,  under  certain  circumstances,  poetry  and 
painting  can  be  made  to  have  the  same  effects  ?  Although 
a  changing  series  of  scenes  is  pictured  in  this  beautiful 
little  poem,  as  is  proper  where  the  medium  of  representation 
is  a  series  of  words,  the  feelings  suggested  by  it  are  almost 
identical  with  those  which  would  be  awakened  by  the 
single  scene  of  a  painting. 

We  sat  by  the  fisher's  cottage, 

And  looked  at  the  stormy  tide  ; 
The  evening  mist  came  rising, 

And  floating  far  and  wide. 

One  by  one  in  the  lighthouse 

The  lamps  shone  out  on  high  ; 
And  far  on  the  dim  horizon 

A  ship  went  sailing  by. 

We  spoke  of  storm  and  shipwreck, — 

Of  sailors,  and  how  they  live  ; 
Of  journeys  'twixt  sky  and  water, 

And  the  sorrows  and  joys  they  gire. 

We  spoke  of  distant  countries, 

In  regions  strange  and  fair, 
And  of  the  wondrous  beings 

And  curious  customs  there  ; 

Of  perfumed  lamps  on  the  Ganges, 

Which  were  launched  in  the  twilight  hour  j 

And  the  dark  and  silent  Brahmins, 
Who  worship  the  lotus  flower. 

Of  the  wretched  dwarfs  of  Lapland, — 

Broad-headed,  wide-mouthed,  and  small, — 

Who  crouch  round  their  oil-fires  cooking, 
And  chatter,  and  scream,  and  bawl. 


PURE  DIRECT  REPRESENTATION.  221 

And  the  maidens  earnestly  listened, 

Till  at  last  we  spoke  no  more  : 
The  ship  like  a  shadow  had  vanished, 

And  darkness  fell  deep  on  the  shore. 

—  The  Fisher's  Cottage  :   Tr.  by  C.  G.  Leland. 

This  is  all  that  there  is  to  the  poem  ;  yet,  after  reading 
it,  we  could  sit  and  muse  for  hours,  as  we  could  before  a 
painting,  recalling  what  people  talk  about  under  such  cir- 
cumstances,— how  little  things  make  imagination  wander 
off  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, — and  of  how  little  account  it 
all  is  when  the  wandering  is  over. 

Here,  too,  is  another  lyric,  a  celebrated  one,  and  of  the 
most  effective  type ;  yet  it  contains  nothing  but  direct 
representation : 

Break,  break,  break, 

On  thy  cold,  gray  stones,  oh  Sea  ! 
And  I  would  that  my  tongue  could  utter 

The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me. 

O  well  for  the  fisherman's  boy 

That  he  shouts  with  his  sister  at  play  ! 
O  well  for  the  sailor  lad, 

That  he  sings  in  his  boat  on  the  bay  ! 

And  the  stately  ships  go  on 

To  their  haven  under  the  hill ; 
But  oh  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 

And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still ! 

Break,  break,  break, 

At  the  foot  of  the  crags,  oh  Sea  ! 
But  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead 

Will  never  come  back  to  me. 

— Break,  Break,  Break  :   Tennyson, 

Notice  these  also : 

Each  on  his  own  strict  line  we  move, 
And  some  find  death  ere  they  find  love; 
So  far  apart  their  lives  are  thrown 
From  the  twin  soul  that  halves  their  own. 


222  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

And  sometimes,  by  still  harder  fate, 
The  lovers  meet,  but  meet  too  late. 
— Thy  heart  is  mine  ! —  True,  trite  !  ah,  true  / 
— Then,  love,  thy  hand  ! — Ah,  no  !  adieu  ! 

—  Too  Late  :  Matthew  Arnold. 

Of  a'  the  airts  the  wind  can  blaw 

I  dearly  like  the  west, 
For  there  the  bonnie  lassie  lives, 

The  lassie  I  lo'e  best ; 
There  wild  woods  grow,  an'  rivers  flow, 

An'  mony  a  hill  between  ; 
But  day  an'  night  my  fancy's  flight 

Is  ever  wi'  my  Jean. 

I  see  her  in  the  dewy  flowers, 

I  see  her  sweet  an'  fair  ; 
I  hear  her  in  the  tunefu*  birds, 

I  hear  her  charm  the  air  : 
There  's  not  a  bonnie  flow'r  that  springs 

By  fountain,  shaw,  or  green, 
There  's  not  a  bonnie  bird  that  sings, 

But  minds  me  o'  my  Jean. 

— /  Love  my  Jean  :  Burns. 

The  following  also  may  be  classed  as  direct  representa- 
tion. It  is  humorous,  too,  for  the  very  reason  that  it  is 
direct,  confessing  to  a  kind  of  pride  very  common,  but 
very  seldom  recognized  to  be  irrational  and  absurd,  be- 
cause not  expressed  in  such  a  straightforward,  unequivocal 
way. 

He  is  an  Englishman, 

For  he  himself  has  said  it, 

And  it  's  greatly  to  his  credit 
That  he  is  an  Englishman. 

For  he  might  have  been  a  Roosian, 

A  French,  or  Turk,  or  Proosian, 
Or  perhaps  Ital-i-an  ; 

But  in  spite  of  all  temptations 

To  belong  to  other  nations, 
He  remains  an  Englishman. 

— Pinafore,  2  :   Gilbert. 


PURE  DIRECT  REPRESENTATION.  223 

Much  of  Gilbert's  fun  is  of  this  same  sort.  Probably 
many  an  old  maid  has  had  thoughts  like  the  following; 
but  ordinarily,  if  not  ashamed  of  them,  she  is  too  bashful 
to  acknowledge  them.  They  appear  ridiculous  only  when 
bawled  out  at  the  top  of  the  voice  of  a  stalwart  contralto 
into  the  ears  of  hundreds. 

Sad  is  the  woman's  lot  who,  year  by  year, 
Sees  one  by  one  her  beauties  disappear. 
****** 

Silvered  is  the  raven  hair, 

Spreading  is  the  parting  straight, 
Mottled  the  complexion  fair, 

Halting  is  the  youthful  gait, 
Hollow  is  the  laughter  free, 

Spectacled  the  hmpid  eye  ; 
Little  will  be  left  of  me 

In  the  coming  by  and  by. 

Fading  is  the  taper  waist, 

Shapeless  grows  the  shapely  limb, 
And,  although  severely  laced, 

Spreading  is  the  figure  trim  j 
Stouter  than  I  used  to  be, 

Still  more  corpulent  grow  I, 
There  will  be  too  much  of  me 

In  the  coming  by  and  by. 

— Patience,  2  :  Gilbert. 

Those  whose  attention  has  never  been  directed  to  the 
fact,  will  be  surprised  upon  examination  to  find  how  many 
poems  contain  nothing  but  this  direct  representation. 
Among  them  can  be  included  almost  all  those  that  in  the 
true  sense  of  the  term  are  ballads,  like  Scott's  "  Lochinvar," 
and  its  models  in  Percy's  Reliques.  Not  only  so,  but  as 
this  form  of  representation  may  reproduce  that  which  may 
be  supposed  to  have  been  heard  or  said,  as  well  as  seen  or 
done,  in  this  class  may  be  included  a  large  number  of 


224  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

more  reflective  poems,  like  Tennyson's  May  Queen,  and 
Northern  Farmer.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  however, 
that  when  this  style  is  used  there  is  special  need  that  the 
ideas  to  be  expressed  be  picturesque  in  themselves,  or 
else  concentrations  in  concrete  form  illustrating  much 
poetic  truth  that  is  generic  and  universal  in  its  applica- 
bility. For  poems  fulfilling  perfectly  the  first  condition, 
notice  Kingsley's  Three  Fishers,  and  O  Mary  Go  and  Call 
the  Cattle  Home,  quoted  in  Chapter  Twenty-seventh  of 
this  work.  For  a  poem  fulfilling  the  second,  Burns' 
Address  to  the  Louse  on  a  Lady's  Bonnet,  is  as  good  as  any. 
He  ends  that,  as  will  be  remembered,  passing,  however^ 
in  order  to  do  it,  from  pure  into  alloyed  representation, 
in  this  way : 

O  wad  some  power  the  giftie  gi'e  us 

To  see  oursels  as  ithers  see  us  ! 

It  wad  frae  monie  a  blunder  free  us 

And  foolish  notion  : 
What  airs  in  dress  an'  gait  wad  lea'e  us, 

And  e'en  devotion  ! 

When  either  condition  just  mentioned  is  fulfilled,  the 
conception  itself  is  representative,  and  often  all  that  is 
needed,  for  the  highest  poetry  is  a  literal  and  therefore  a 
direct  statement  of  that  which  is  perceived  in  conscious- 
ness. But  this  fact,  in  connection  with  further  examples 
of  direct  representation,  will  be  considered  hereafter. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

PURE   INDIRECT   OR  ILLUSTRATIVE   REPRESENTATION. 

Illustrative  in  Connection  with  Direct  Representation  enables  a  writer  to  ex- 
press almost  any  Phase  of  Thought  representatively  or  poetically — 
Examples — Representation,  if  Direct,  must  communicate  mainly  what 
can  be  seen  or  heard — Inward  Mental  Processes  can  be  pictured  out- 
wardly and  materially  only  by  Indirect  Representation — Examples 
of  this  Fact  from  Longfellow — From  Arnold — From  Whittier — From 
Smith — From  Tennyson,  Aldrich,  and  Bryant — Two  Motives  in  using 
Language,  corresponding  respectively  to  those  underlying  Discoursive 
and  Dramatic  Elocution,  namely,  that  tending  to  the  Expression  of 
what  is  within  the  Mind,  and  that  tending  to  the  Description  of 
what  is  without  the  Mind — Examples  from  Longfellow  of  Poetry 
giving  Form  to  these  two  different  Motives — Careful  Analysis  might 
give  us  here,  besides  Indirect  or  Figurative  Representation  used  for  the 
purpose  of  Expression,  the  same  used  for  the  purpose  of  Description, 
but  as  in  Rhetoric  and  Practice  Expressional  and  Descriptive  Illus- 
tration follow  the  same  Laws,  both,  will  be  treated  as  Illustrative 
Representation— Similes,  ancient  and  modern — From  Homer — From 
Morris — From  Milton — From  Shakespear — From  Moore — From  Kings- 
ley — Metaphors,  ancient  and  modern — Used  in  Cases  of  Excitation — 
Examples. 

ET  us  pass  on  now  to  the  illustrative  forms  of  pure 
representation.  The  plain  language  used  in  direct 
representation  is  a  development,  as  has  been  said,  of  the 
instinctive  modes  of  expression,  primarily  exemplified  in 
ejaculatory  sounds ;  and  figurative  language,  now  to  be  con- 
sidered, springs  from  the  reflective  modes  primarily  exem- 
plified in  imitative  sounds.  Behind  imitation  (see  page  8) 
there  is  always  an  intellectual  purpose,  a  plan,  a  desire  to 


226  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

impress,  if  not  to  convince.  This  motive  would  make  a 
prose  writer  didactic  and  argumentative.  The  poet  it 
drives  to  illustrations,  each  of  which  in  genuine  poetry 
must  be  representative  or  picturesque,  although  his  main 
thought — differing  in  this  particular  from  that  which 
must  be  behind  direct  representation — need  not  be  so. 

A  moment's  reflection  will  show  us  that  this  fact  with 
reference  to  figurative  or  illustrative  representation,  ren- 
ders it  possible  for  a  writer  to  express  almost  any  thought 
or  feeling  whatever  in  a  representative  and  poetic  way. 
A  noise,  for  instance,  whether  slight  or  great,  is  not  in  it- 
self poetic;  if  great,  one  would  suppose  that  it  would 
be  the  opposite,  yet  see  how  it  may  become  poetic  on  ac- 
count of  the  way  in  which  it  is  represented : 

And  now  and  then  an  echo  started  up, 

And,  shuddering,  fled  from  room  to  room,  and  died 

Of  fright  in  far  apartments. 

—  The  Princess  :  Tennyson. 

Immediate  in  a  flame, 

But  soon  obscured  with  smoke,  all  heaven  appear'd, 
From  those  deep-throated  engines  belched,  whose  roar 
Embowel'd  with  outrageous  noise  the  air, 
And  all  her  entrails  tore,  disgorging  foul 
Their  devilish  glut,  chained  thunderbolts,  and  hail 
Of  iron  globes,  which  on  the  victor  host 
Level'd  with  such  impetuous  fury  smote, 
That  whom  they  hit  none  on  their  feet  might  stand. 

— Paradise  Lost,  6  :  Milton. 

That  human  beings  often  misunderstand  one  another  is  a 
commonplace  fact  of  ordinary  observation.  But  see  what 
representation  may  do  with  the  expression  of  the  fact : 

We  are  spirits  clad  in  veils  ; 

Man  by  man  was  never  seen  ; 
All  our  deep  communing  fails 

To  remove  the  shadowy  screen. 


PURE  ILLUSTRATIVE  REPRESENTATION.         22/ 

Heart  to  heart  was  never  known  ; 

Mind  with  mind  did  never  meet ; 
We  are  columns  left  alone 

Of  a  temple  once  complete. 

Like  the  stars  that  gem  the  sky, 

Far  apart,  though  seeming  near, 
In  our  light  we  scattered  lie  ; 

All  is  thus  but  starlight  here. 

—  Thought  .•  Cranch. 

To  say  that  the  murder  of  a  good  man  will  cause  many 
to  mourn,  does  not  involve  the  utterance  of  a  profound  or 
beautiful  thought,  but  the  thought  may  be  represented  so 
as  to  seem  both,  as  in  this : 

Besides  this,  Duncan 

Hath  borne  his  faculties  so  meek,  hath  been 
So  clear  in  his  great  office,  that  his  virtues 
Will  plead  like  angels,  trumpet-tongued,  against 
The  deep  damnation  of  his  taking  off  ; 
And  pity,  like  a  naked  new-born  babe, 
Striding  the  blast,  or  Heaven's  cherubim,  horsed 
Upon  the  sightless  couriers  of  the  air, 
Shall  blow  the  horrid  deed  in  every  eye, 
That  tears  shall  drown  the  wind.     I  have  no  spur 
To  prick  the  sides  of  my  intent ;  but  only 
Vaulting  ambition,  which  o'erleaps  itself 

And  falls  on  the  other. 

— Macbeth,  i.,  7  :  Shakespcar. 

So  one  might  go  through  the  whole  catalogue  of  pos- 
sible thoughts  and  feelings,  and  it  is  a  question  whether 
a  man,  if  enough  of  an  artist,  could  not  express  every  one 
of  them  in  such  words,  or  arrange  it  in  such  connections 
or  balance  it  by  such  antitheses,  or  trail  after  it  such  sug- 
gestions, or  put  it  into  the  mouths  of  such  characters, 
placed  in  such  positions,  induced  by  such  communica- 
tions, stirred  by  such  surroundings,  as  to  make  it, 
although  in  itself  most  trivial,  common,  disagreeable,  and 


228  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

mean,  a  part  of  a  representation  which,  considered  as  a 
whole,  would  produce  an  aesthetic  effect. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that  this  statement 
is  true  only  because  it  is  possible  for  the  poet  to  use  a 
kind  of  representation  in  addition  to  that  which  is  direct. 
The  latter,  as  we  have  found,  must  always  give  expression 
to  thoughts  or  feelings  which  can  be  legitimately  inferred 
from  simple,  straightforward  accounts  of  certain  real  or 
imaginary  events.  It  is  all  that  is  needed,  therefore,  when 
communicating  conclusions  derived  from  what  has  been 
seen  or  heard ;  but  not  so  always,  when  communicating 
that  which,  aside  from  any  immediate  outward  influence, 
has  been  inwardly  thought  or  felt.  In  the  latter  case,  the 
mind,  if  it  would  represent  rather  than  present  what  it  has 
to  say,  must  resort  to  figures.  In  using  these  as  has  been 
shown,  it  simply  carries  out  a  tendency  exemplified  in  all 
language,  from  the  time  of  the  first  imitative  sounds  to 
that  of  words  like  express,  impress,  and  understand.  In 
accordance  with  this  tendency,  unseen  mental  relations  or 
processes  are  represented  by  referring  to  others  resembling 
them,  which  are  perceptible  in  the  visible  or  material 
world.  Instead  of  saying,  "  His  integrity  is  impaired  by 
severe  temptation,"  one  may  say,  "  His  uprightness  bends 
before  some  pressing  blast."  In  other  words,  instead  of 
using  conventional  language,  which  simply  presents  an 
idea,  one  may  assume  the  attitude  of  the  first  framers  of 
language,  and  represent  his  idea,  making  it,  in  a  sense, 
tangible,  visible,  graphic.  An  endeavor  to  do  this,  as 
applied  to  thoughts  and  feelings  that  cannot  be  directly 
represented,  is  the  motive  underlying  the  primitive  use  of 
figurative  language,  or  indirect  representation,  which 
might  be  termed  also  metaphorical,  in  the  sense  of  being 
constructed  according  to  the  methods  of  the  metaphor, 


PURE  ILLUSTRATIVE  REPRESENTATION.         22$ 

though  all  actual  metaphors  do  not  exemplify  it,  and 
some  similes  and  allegories  do.  Longfellow,  for  instance, 
starts  out  to  say  that  the  examples  of  great  men  often  en- 
courage and  stimulate  others ;  but  he  ends  by  represent- 
ing his  thought  thus : 

Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 

We  can  make  our  lives  sublime, 
And,  departing,  leave  behind  us 

Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time  ; 

Footprints,  that  perhaps  another, 

Sailing  o'er  life's  solemn  main, 
A  forlorn  and  shipwrecked  brother, 

Seeing,  shall  take  heart  again. 

— A  Psalm  of  Lift. 

Here  a  plain  statement  would  be  that  the  poet  is  not 
one  of  those  constantly  encouraged  and  guided  by  cheer- 
ing thoughts,  but  his  words  are  these  : 

The  thoughts  that  rain  their  steady  glow 
Like  stars  on  life's  cold  sea, 
Which  others  know  or  say  they  know — 
They  never  shine  for  me. 

Thoughts  light,  like  gleams,  my  spirit's  sky, 
But  they  will  not  remain  ; 
They  light  me  once,  they  hurry  by, 
And  never  come  again. 

— Despondency  :  Matthew  Arnold. 

Here  the  declaration  is  made  that  care  and  trial,  when 
passed,  do  not  seem  painful  to  the  soul ;  that  they  are 
means  of  developing  its  powers  harmoniously,  and  increas- 
ing its  inward  satisfaction  ;  and  that  this  fact  causes  the 
writer  to  submit  cheerfully  to  the  divine  influence ;  but 
what  he  really  says  is  that  he  has  learned : 

That  care  and  trial  seem  at  last, 
Through  memory's  sunset  air, 


230  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Like  mountain  ranges  overpast, 
In  purple  distance  fair  ; — 

That  all  the  jarring  notes  of  life 

Seem  blending  in  a  psalm, 
And  all  the  angles  of  its  strife 

Slow  rounding  into  calm. 

And  so  the  shadows  fall  apart, 

And  so  the  west  winds  play  ; 
And  all  the  windows  of  my  heart 

I  open  to  the  day. 

—My  Psalm:   Whittier. 

And  here,  once  more,  the  writer  wishes  to  describe  in 
their  order  the  effects  upon  the  soul  of  sin,  faith,  aspira- 
tion, and  love. 

Soon  a  trembling,  naked  figure,  to  the  earth  my  face  was  bowed, 
For  the  curse  of  God  gloomed  o'er  me  like  a  bursting  thunder-cloud. 
Rolled  away  that  fearful  darkness,  past  my  weakness,  past  my  grief, 
Washed  with  bitter  tears  I  sat  full  in  the  sunshine  of  belief. 
Weary  eyes  are  looking  eastward,  whence  the  golded  sun  upsprings, 
Cry  the  young  and  fervid  spirits,  clad  with  ardor  as  with  wings  : 
Life  and  soul  make  wretched  jangling,  they  should  mingle  to  one  Sire, 
As  the  lovely  voices  mingle  in  a  holy  temple  choir. 

— A  Life  Drama,  2  :  Alex.  Smith. 

In  Chapter  Twenty-seventh  will  be  found  several  poems 
illustrating  this  kind  of  representation,  constructed  from 
beginning  to  end  according  to  the  method  of  a  single 
simile  or  allegory.  Notice,  especially,  The  Deserted  House, 
by  Tennyson,  the  Nocturne,  by  Aldrich,  and  The  Wind 
and  Stream,  and  The  Tides,  by  Bryant. 

We  have  noticed  elsewhere  in  this  work,  that  there  are 
two  motives  in  using  language,  corresponding  respectively 
to  those  underlying  discoursive  and  dramatic  elocution 
(see  page  33).  One  motive  is  to  express  what  is  within 


PURE  ILLUSTRATIVE  REPRESENTATION. 

the  mind  ;  the  other  is  to  describe  what  is  outside  it.  In 
poetic  direct  representation,  these  two  motives  are  always 
combined.  A  man  cannot  express  himself  poetically  in 
plain  language  without  'also  describing  some  scene.  But 
the  indirect  representation  of  figurative  language  may  be 
poetic  or  descriptive  in  itself ;  and,  therefore,  in  using  it, 
the  poet  need  think  only  of  expressing  thought  so  that 
the  hearer  may  appreciate  it,  e.  g\ 

And  all  my  thoughts  sail  thither, 
Freighted  with  prayers  and  hopes,  and  forward  urged 
Against  all  stress  of  accident,  as,  in 
The  Eastern  Tale,  against  the  wind  and  tide, 
Great  ships  were  drawn  to  the  Magnetic  Mountains. 

— Spanish  Student:  Longfellow. 

But  here  the  same  form  of  representation  is  used  in  order 
to  describe  a  scene  so  that  the  hearer  may  imagine  it : 

And  the  moon  rose  over  the  city, 
Behind  the  dark  church-tower. 

I  saw  her  bright  reflection 

In  the  waters  under  me, 
Like  a  golden  goblet  falling 

And  sinking  into  the  sea. 

Along  the  long  black  rafters 

The  wavering  shadows  lay, 
And  the  current  that  came  from  the  ocean 

Seemed  to  lift  and  bear  them  away. 

—  The  Bridge:  Idem. 

Evidently,  therefore,  a  complete  analysis  would  give  us, 
besides  indirect  or  figurative  representation  used  for  the 
purpose  of  expression,  the  same  used  for  the  purpose  of 
description.  But  in  rhetoric  no  discrimination  is  made 
between  expressional  and  descriptive  purposes;  and,  as  the 
same  principles  apply  to  both,  no  practical  advantage  can 
be  derived  from  separating  them  in  our  present  discussion. 


232  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

All  that  is  to  be  said  in  the  following  chapters,  therefore, 
of  either  way  of  using  figurative  language  will  be  treated 
under  the  general  head  of  illustrative  representation. 

For  reasons  already  explained,  the  two  principal  figures 
used  for  the  purposes  of  illustration — and  this  is  true 
whether  representation  be  expressional  or  descriptive — 
are  the  simile  and  the  metaphor.  The  former  is  of  most 
frequent  occurrence  in  the  earliest  poems.  Notice  the 
number  of  similes  in  this  single  passage  from  Homer : 

As  when  a  forest  on  the  mountain  top 

Is  in  a  blaze  with  the  devouring  flame, 

And  shines  afar,  so,  while  the  warriors  marched, 

The  brightness  of  their  burnished  weapons  flashed 

On  every  side,  and  upward  to  the  sky. 

And  as  when  water-fowl  of  many  tribes — 

Geese,  cranes,  and  long-necked  swans — disport  themselves 

In  Asia's  fields  beside  Cayster's  streams, 

And  to  and  fro  they  fly  with  screams,  and  light, 

Flock  after  flock,  and  all  the  fields  resound  ; 

So  poured,  from  ships  and  tents,  the  swarming  tribes 

Into  Scamander's  plain,  where  fearfully 

Earth  echoed  to  the  tramp  of  steeds  and  men  ; 

And  there  they  mustered  on  the  river's  side, 

Numberless  as  the  flowers  and  leaves  of  spring. 

And  as  when  flies  in  swarming  myriads  haunt 

The  herdsman's  stalls  in  spring-time,  when  new  milk 

Has  filled  the  pails, — in  such  vast  multitudes 

Mustered  the  long-haired  Greeks  upon  the  plain, 

Impatient  to  destroy  the  Trojan  race. 

Then,  as  the  goatherds,  when  their  mingled  flocks 

Are  in  the  pastures,  know,  and  set  apart 

Each  his  own  scattered  charge,  so  did  the  chiefs, 

Moving  among  them,  marshal  each  his  men. 

— Iliad,  2  :  Bryant's  Trans. 

In  modern  poetry  the  extended  simile  is  much  less  of  a 
favorite  than  the  metaphor.  Yet  we  find  many  instances 
of  the  former.  Here  is  a  fine  simile  from  The  Lovers  of 
Gudrun,  by  Morris : 


EXAMPLES  OF  SIMILES.  233 

As  a  gray  dove,  within  the  meshes  caught, 
Flutters  a  little,  then  lies  still  again, 
Ere  wildly  beat  its  wings  with  its  last  pain, 
So  once  or  twice  her  passion,  as  she  spake, 
Rose  to  her  throat,  and  yet  might  not  outbreak 
Till  that  last  word  was  spoken  ;  then,  as  stung 
By  pain  on  pain,  her  arms  abroad  she  flung, 
And  wailed  aloud. 

—  The  Earthly  Paradise. 

Here  is  one  of  Milton's  similes,  highly  commended  by 
Herbert  Spencer  in  his  essay  on  "The  Philosophy  of 
Style,"  as  affording  "  a  fine  instance  of  a  sentence,  well 
arranged  alike  in  the  priority  of  the  subordinate  members, 
in  the  avoidance  of  long  and  numerous  suspensions,  and 
in  the  correspondence  between  the  order  of  the  clauses 
and  the  sequence  of  the  phenomena  described,  which,  by 
the  way,  is  a  further  prerequisite  to  easy  comprehension, 
and  therefore  to  effect." 

As  when  a  prowling  wolf, 

Whom  hunger  drives  to  seek  new  haunt  for  prey, 
Watching  where  shepherds  pen  their  flocks  at  eve, 
In  hurdled  cotes  amid  the  fields  secure, 
Leaps  o'er  the  fence  with  ease  into  the  fold  : 
Or  as  a  thief  bent  to  unhoard  the  cash 
Of  some  rich  burgher,  whose  substantial  doors, 
Cross-barred  and  bolted  fast,  fear  no  assault, 
In  at  the  window  climbs,  or  o'er  the  tiles  : 
So  clomb  the  first  grand  thief  into  God's  fold  ; 
So  since  into  his  church  lewd  hirelings  climb. 

— Paradise  Lost,  4. 

And  here  is  one  from  Shakespear  in  which  metaphors 
also  are  included.  Notice  the  graphic  example  of  pure 
representation  in  the  third  and  fourth  lines : 

This  battle  fares  like  to  the  morning's  war, 
When  dying  clouds  contend  with  growing  light ; 
What  time  the  shepherd,  blowing  of  his  nails, 
Can  neither  call  it  perfect  day  nor  night. 


234  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Now  sways  it  this  way  like  a  mighty  sea, 
Forced  by  the  tide  to  combat  with  the  wind  ; 
Now  sways  it  that  way  like  the  self-same  sea, 
Forced  to  retire  by  fury  of  the  wind  : 
Sometimes  the  flood  prevails  :  and  then  the  wind : 
Now  one  the  better,  then  another  best ; 
Both  tugging  to  be  victors,  breast  to  breast, 
Yet  neither  conqueror  nor  conquered  : 
So  is  the  equal  poise  of  this  fell  war. 

—3  Henry  VI.,  ii.,  5. 

Illustrative  representation  forms  the  substance  of  much 
of  our  lyric  poetry,  both  serious  and  comic,  as  in  the 
following  containing  only  a  single  simile : 

The  bird  let  loose  in  eastern  skies, 

When  hastening  fondly  home, 
Ne'er  stoops  to  earth  her  wing,  nor  flies 

Where  idle  warblers  roam  ; 
But  high  she  shoots  through  air  and  light, 

Above  all  low  delay, 
Where  nothing  earthly  bounds  her  flight, 

Nor  shadow  dims  her  way. 

So  grant  me,  God,  from  every  care 

And  stain  of  passion  free, 
Aloft  through  Virtue's  purer  air, 

To  hold  my  course  to  thee  ! 
No  sin  to  cloud,  no  lure  to  stay 

My  soul, — as  home  she  springs  ; 
Thy  sunshine  on  her  joyful  way, 

Thy  freedom  in  her  wings  ! 

—  The  Bird  Let  Loose  :   Thomas  Moore. 

Here  again  is  a  very  felicitous  use  of  figures,  which  it 
may  prove  interesting  to  compare  with  the  same  author's 
method  in  direct  representation,  as  employed  in  his  O 
Mary  Go  and  Call  the  Cattle  Home,  and  The  Fishermen* 
quoted  in  Chapter  Twenty-seventh. 

There  sits  a  bird  on  every  tree  ; 
Sing  heigh-ho. 


EXAMPLES  OF  SIMILES.  235 

There  sits  a  bird  on  every  tree  ; 
And  courts  his  love  as  I  do  thee  ; 
Sing  heigh-ho  and  heigh-ho. 
Young  maids  must  marry. 

There  grows  a  flower  on  every  bough  ; 

Sing  heigh-ho. 

There  grows  a  flower  on  every  bough  ; 
Its  petals  kiss — I  '11  show  you  how  : 

Sing  heigh-ho  and  heigh-ho. 
Young  maids  must  marry. 

From  sea  to  stream  the  salmon  roam  ; 

Sing  heigh-ho. 

From  sea  to  stream  the  salmon  roam  ; 
Each  finds  a  mate  and  leads  her  home  ; 

Sing  heigh-ho  and  heigh-ho. 
Young  maids  must  marry. 

The  sun  's  a  bridegroom,  earth  a  bride ; 

Sing  heigh-ho. 

They  court  from  morn  to  eventide  ; 
The  earth  shall  pass,  but  love  abide  ; 

Sing  heigh-ho  and  heigh-ho. 
Young  maids  must  marry. 

— Sing  Heigh- Ho  :  Kingsley. 

Metaphors,  to  most  readers,  do  not  appear  to  be  as  fre- 
quent or  as  fine  in  the  most  ancient  as  in  modern  verse. 
This  seems  to  be  so,  first,  because  what  is  once  a  meta- 
phorical use  of  a  word  comes,  after  a  time,  to  be  accepted 
as  an  ordinary  use  of  it,  if  not  as  a  secondary  meaning  for 
it.  Homer  may  have  originated  the  meanings  given  to 
the  words  pillar  and  shoulder  in  the  following  passages, 
and  to  his  contemporaries  each  may  have  appeared  to  be 
a  very  significant  metaphor.  But  the  same  words,  or  their 
equivalents  in  our  language,  used  in  the  same  senses,  are 
so  familiar  to  us  to-day,  that  many,  without  having  their 
attention  drawn  to  the  fact,  do  not  recognize  them  to 
be  metaphors  at  all. 


236  POETRY  AS  A    REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  slain,  though  stranger  born, 
Had  been  a  pillar  of  the  realm  of  Troy. 

— Iliad  1 6  :  Bryant's  Translation^ 

Thrice  Patroclus  climbed 
A  shoulder  of  the  lofty  wall. 

— Idem. 

A  second  reason  is  that  the  metaphor,  inasmuch  as  it 
depends  for  its  force  upon  its  suggestiveness,  necessarily 
requires  some  sympathy  on  the  part  of  the  reader  with 
the  conditions  of  knowledge,  thought,  and  feeling  in  the 
age  to  which  it  is  addressed.  We  can  imagine  a  time,  for 
instance,  in  which  the  following  passages,  even  if  they 
could  be  conceived,  would  not  be  received  with  much 
favor.  Yet  they  represent  the  forms  of  expression  which, 
at  the  present  time,  are  the  most  stirring  and  popular. 

Ignorance  is  the  curse  of  God. 

— 2  Henry  VI.,  iv.,  7  :  Shakespear. 

I  tell  thee,  Jack  Cade,  the  clothier,  means  to  dress  the  commonwealth^ 
and  turn  it,  and  set  a  new  nap  upon  it. 

— 2  Henry  VI.,  iv.,  2  :  Idem. 

One  touch  of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin. 

—  Troilus  and  Cressida*  iii.,  3  :  Idem. 

Here  once  the  embattled  farmers  stood, 
And  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world. 
—Hymn  Sung  at  Completion  of  the  Concord  Monument :  Emerson. 

They  take  the  rustic  murmur  of  their  bourg 
For  the  great  wave  that  echoes  round  the  world. 

— Idyls  of  the  King,  Geraint  and  Enid  :   Tennyson. 

Autels  que  la  raison  en  montant  submergea 

— La  Temple,  in  La  Legend  des  Siecles  :  Hugo. 

A  third  reason  is  that,  while  the  ancient  figures  of 
speech  were  prompted  often  by  a  desire  to  express 
thought  adequately,  the  modern  are  prompted  mainly  by 
a  desire  to  express  it  aesthetically.  For  this  reason,  inas- 


EXAMPLES  OF  METAPHORS.  237 

much  as  an  end  aimed  at  is  usually  the  end  attained, 
modern  metaphors  like  modern  paintings  are,  more  often 
than  ancient  ones,  results  of  the  highest  degree  of  artistic 
care  and  skill.  Notice  the  following : 

Still  as  a  slave  before  his  lord, 

The  ocean  hath  no  blast  ; 
His  great  bright  eye  most  silently 

Up  to  the  moon  is  cast. 

—  The  A  ncient  Mariner  .•  Coleridge. 

I  should  make  very  forges  of  my  cheeks, 
That  would  to  cinders  burn  up  modesty, 
Did  I  but  speak  thy  deeds. 

— Othello,  iv.,  2  :  Shakespear. 

I  sate  upon  the  deck  and  watched  all  night, 
And  listened  through  the  stars  for  Italy. 

Thus  my  Italy 

Was  stealing  on  us.     Genoa  broke  with  day  ; 
The  Doria's  long  pale  palace  striking  out, 
From  green  hills  in  advance  of  the  white  town, 
A  marble  Jinger  dominant  to  ships, 
Seen  glimmering  through  the  uncertain  gray  of  dawn. 

— Aurora  Leigh,  7  :  Mrs.  Browning. 

The  simile  is  used  mainly  when  there  is  only  a  moderate 
degree  of  excitation.  When  this  is  great,  the  mind  flies 
naturally  to  the  metaphor,  as  a  more  concentrated  form  of 
expression,  representing  many  thoughts  in  a  few  words. 
So  Macduff,  in  the  second  act  of  Macbeth,  on  seeing 
the  dead  Duncan,  cries  out : 

Confusion  now  hath  made  his  masterpiece. 
Most  sacrilegious  murther  hath  broke  ope 
The  Lord's  anointed  temple  and  stole  thence 
The  life  o'  the  building  ! 

****** 
Approach  the  chamber,  and  destroy  your  sight 
With  a  new  Gorgon.     .     .     . 
Shake  off  this  downy  sleep,  death's  counterfeit, 


238  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

And  look  on  death  itself  !  up,  up,  and  see 
The  great  doom's  image  ! — Malcolm  !  Banquo  ! 
As  from  your  graves  rise  up,  and  walk  like  sprites 
To  countenance  this  horror  !     Ring  the  bell. 


Macb.:  Had  I  but  died  an  hour  before  this  chance 
I  had  lived  a  blessed  time  ;  for  from  this  instant 
There  's  nothing  serious  in  mortality  ; 
All  is  but  toys  ;  renown  and  grace  is  dead  j 
The  wine  of  life  is  drawn,  and  the  mere  lees 
Is  left  this  vault  to  brag  of. 

— Macbeth,  ii.,  i  :  Shakespear. 

The  same  abundant  use  of  metaphorical  language  will 
be  found  in  most  of  Shakespear's  scenes  representing 
quarrelling  and  love,  like  those,  for  instance,  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet.  This  form,  too,  as  we  know,  is  that  adopted 
in  impassioned  love  lyrics. 

From  the  meadow  your  walks  have  left  so  sweet 

That  whenever  a  March-wind  sighs 
He  sets  the  jewel-print  of  your  feet 

In  violets  blue  as  your  eyes, 
To  the  woody  hollows  in  which  we  meet 

And  the  valleys  of  Paradise. 

****** 

Queen  rose  of  the  rosebud,  garden  of  girls, 

Come  hither,  the  dances  are  done, 
In  gloss  of  satin  and  glimmer  of  pearls, 

Queen  lily  and  rose  in  one  ; 
Shine  out,  little  head,  sunning  over  with  curls, 

To  the  flowers,  and  be  their  sun. 

****** 
She  is  coming,  my  own,  my  sweet  ; 

Were  it  ever  so  airy  a  tread, 
My  heart  would  hear  her  and  beat, 

Were  it  earth  in  an  earthy  bed  ; 
My  dust  would  hear  her  and  beat, 

Had  I  lain  for  a  century  dead  ; 


EXAMPLES  OF  METAPHORS.  239 

Would  start  and  tremble  under  her  feet, 
And  blossom  in  purple  and  red. 

— Maud  :   Tennyson. 

Illustrative,  like  direct,  representation  may  be  used,  of 
course,  for  wit  and  humor. 

When  Loveless  married  Lady  Jenny, 
Whose  beauty  was  the  ready  penny  ; 
"  I  chose  her,"  says  he,  "  like  old  plate, 
Not  for  the  fashion  but  the  weight." 

—Elegant  Extracts. 

You  beat  your  pate,  and  fancy  wit  will  come  j 
Knock  as  you  please,  there  's  nobody  at  home. 

— Epigram  :  Pope. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PURE  REPRESENTATION  IN  THE  POETRY  OF  HOMER. 

How  the  Phenomena  of  Nature  should  be  used  in  Representation — Hornet 
as  a  Model — His  Descriptions  are  Mental,  Fragmentary,  Specific,  Typ- 
ical— The  Descriptions  of  Lytton,  Goethe,  Morris,  Southey,  etc — 
Homer's  Descriptions  also  Progressive — Examples — Dramatic  Poems 
should  show  the  same  Traits — Homer's  Illustrative  Representation. 

TJAVING  found  now  how  poetry  through  pure  rep- 
resentation, whether  direct  or  illustrative,  is  able 
to  give  definite  expression  to  thoughts  and  feelings,  let 
us  take  up  the  second  question  proposed  in  Chapter 
Twentieth,  and  try  to  find  how  an  artist  desirous  of  rep- 
resenting his  own  thoughts  and  feelings  must  use  the 
phenomena  of  nature  in  order  to  do  this  in  the  most  effec- 
tive way.  In  answering  this  question,  it  is  essential  that 
we  start  with  a  proper  standard.  Fortunately,  we  can  get 
one  universally  acknowledged  to  be  sufficient  for  our  pur- 
pose, in  the  works  of  Homer,  and  this  too — to  say  much 
less  than  is  deserved — in  a  sufficiently  accurate  English 
translation.  So  far  at  least  as  concerns  the  passages 
to  be  quoted  in  this  discussion,  all  have  been  verified 
by  comparing  them  with  the  original  text.  These  poems 
of  Homer  have  stood  the  tests  of  centuries,  and  there  are 
reasons  why  they  have  survived  them.  The  consideration 
which  should  interest  us  most  in  the  present  connection, 
is  the  fact  that  the  poems  were  produced  by  a  man  who 
spoke  directly  from  the  first  promptings  of  nature ;  a  man 


HOMER  'S  REPRESENTA  TIVE  METHODS.  241 

upon  whom  the  methods  of  representation  in  other  arts, 
and  of  presentation  as  used  in  science  and  philosophy,  had 
had  the  least  possible  influence.  In  his  works,  therefore, 
better  than  in  any  others  with  which,  in  our  day,  we  can 
become  acquainted,  we  can  study  the  tendencies  of  poetry 
in  its  most  spontaneous  and  unadulterated  form.  Let  us 
begin  here,  therefore,  by  examining  some  of  the  poetry  of 
Homer,  and  trying  to  find  out  how  he  dealt  with  the 
phenomena  of  nature. 

As  we  pursue  our  inquiry,  one  feature  with  reference  to 
his  methods  should  impress  us  immediately,  and  it  may  as 
well  be  mentioned  before  we  take  up  any  particular  pas- 
sages, because  it  is  apparent  in  all  of  them.  It  may  be  in- 
dicated by  saying  that  the  Homeric  representations  are  all 
mental.  They  fulfil  in  this  respect  the  requirement  al- 
ready mentioned  many  times  in  this  work — that  the  prod- 
ucts of  art  should  represent  both  man  and  nature.  By 
saying  that  the  Homeric  descriptions  are  mental,  it  is 
meant  that  they  show  that  there  is  a  mind  between  the 
phenomena  of  nature  and  the  account  of  them  that  we 
get  in  the  poetry — a  mind  addressing  our  minds.  Not 
that  this  mind  distorts  the  objects  which  it  has  perceived 
and  describes;  the  fact  is  just  the  opposite.  Homer's 
representations  are  pure  in  the  highest  sense  ;  yet  they 
are  not  like  those  of  a  guide-book  or  map.  He  suggests 
his  picture  by  telling  us  about  those  features  of  it  that 
have  had  an  effect  upon  him  as  a  thinking  being,  or, — what 
is  the  same  thing — that  he  expects  will  have  an  effect  upon 
us.  What  he  tells  us  is  true  to  nature,  but  not,  by  any 
means,  all  the  truth  concerning  it.  Certain  parts  of  the 
scenes  presumably  witnessed  have  arrested  his  attention, 
and  suggested  certain  inferences  to  him.  These  parts, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  he  selects  and  arranges  in 


242  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

ways  that  arrest  our  attention  as  they  have  arrested  his. 
In  this  sense  it  is  that  his  descriptions  are  mental.  Let 
us  look  now  at  some  of  them.  Here  is  one  of  his  accounts 
of  a  man,  and  another  of  a  homestead,  both  very  simple, 
but  for  this  very  reason  admirably  adapted  to  our  present 
purpose. 

And  first,  ^Eneas,  with  defiant  mien 

And  nodding  casque,  stood  forth.     He  held  his  shield 

Before  him,  which  he  wielded  right  and  left. 

And  shook  his  brazen  spear. 

— Iliad,  Book  20  :  Bryant's  Trans. 

He  wedded  there 

A  daughter  of  Adrastus,  and  he  dwelt 
Within  a  mansion  filled  with  wealth  ;  broad  fields 
Fertile  in  corn  were  his,  and  many  rows 
Of  trees  and  vines  around  him  ;  large  his  flocks, 
And  great  his  fame  as  one  expert  to  wield, 
Beyond  all  other  Greeks,  the  spear  in  war. 

— Iliad,  14 :  Bryanfs  Trans. 

Notice  now,  in  the  second  place,  that  these  descriptions 
are  fragmentary  >  the  items  mentioned  in  them  being  few. 
They  present  us  with  just  such  incomplete  glimpses  as 
one  would  obtain  or  remember  amid  circumstances  in 
which  the  persons  or  objects  observed  would  form  parts 
of  larger  objects  of  consideration,  while  at  the  same  time 
all  of  them,  or,  perhaps,  he  himself  might  be  in  motion. 

Notice,  in  the  third  place,  that  the  descriptions  are  spe- 
cific. Of  the  few  items  that  are  mentioned,  we  have  a 
very  definite  account  in  the  "  defiant  mien,"  the  "  nodding 
casque,"  the  shaking  " shield  "  and  "  spear,"  the  "mansion 
filled  with  wealth,"  the  " broad  fields  fertile  in  corn,"  the 
"rows  of  trees,"  the  "vines,"  the  "large  flocks,"  and  the 
"  expert  "  in  wielding  "  the  spear."  There  is  no  uncer- 
tainty of  outline  here,  and  therefore  there  is  no  doubt  in 


HOMER'S  REPRESENTATIVE  METHODS.  243 

the  mind  of  the  reader  as  to  whether  or  not  the  author 
has  taken  his  descriptions  from  nature.  The  whole  im- 
pression conveyed  is  that  he  is  describing  the  appearance 
of  some  particular  man  and  homestead,  and  of  no  other. 

Notice  also,  in  the  fourth  place,  that  the  descriptions, 
while  specific,  are  also  typical.  The  features  spoken  of 
are  such  as  to  indicate  the  genus  or  kind  of  person  or 
thing  that  is  represented.  So  fully  is  this  the  case,  that 
the  few  specific  items  mentioned,  like  the  few  bold  out- 
lines of  a  painter's  sketch,  suggest  every  thing  that  the 
imagination  really  needs  in  order  to  make  out  a  complete 
picture.  This  fact  makes  it  possible  for  them  to  be  few 
and  definite,  and  yet  distinctly  representative.  They  do 
not  include  all  the  objects  that  might  be  seen,  all  that 
might  be  photographed,  but  only  a  few  of  them.  At  the 
same  time,  they  are  those  which  in  the  circumstances 
would  be  likely  to  attract  any  one's  eye,  those  from 
which,  and  from  which  only,  even  if  one  saw  the  scene,  he 
would  be  likely  to  draw  his  impressions  with  reference  to 
the  whole  of  it.  Some  of  my  readers  may  remember  that 
Timothy  Titcomb,1  in  giving  advice  to  young  men  intend- 
ing to  go  into  ladies'  society,  does  not  bid  them  attend 
mainly  to  that  which  shall  make  them  appear  intelligent 
or  moral.  Not  at  all.  He  writes  from  the  view-point  of 
a  man  of  common-sense,  understanding  human  nature. 
He  advises  them  to  attend  to  their  neckties.  The  truth 
is,  that  our  first  view  of  a  person  always  lights  upon  some 
one  or  two  prominent  features,  the  eyes,  lips,  smile,  hand, 
gait,  coat,  or  necktie,  as  the  case  may  be,  which,  by  ab- 
sorbing our  attention,  causes  us  to  overlook  every  thing 
else.  In  fact,  we  always  remember  people,  and  houses, 
and  localities,  by  these  single  and  simple,  often  very  ab- 

1  Timothy  Titcomb's  Letters  :  J.  G.  HOLLAND. 


244  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

surd,  things,  which  are  instantly  suggested  whenever  our 
minds  recur  to  that  for  which,  so  far  as  concerns  our  recol- 
lection of  it,  they  stand.  It  is  mainly  this  fact  with  refer- 
ence to  memory  that  Robert  Bulwer  Lytton  illustrates  in 
his  touching  little  poem,  Aux  Italiens. 

******* 

Meanwhile  I  was  thinking  of  my  first  love 

As  I  had  not  been  thinking  of  aught  for  years  ; 

Till  over  my  eyes  there  began  to  move 
Something  that  felt  like  tears. 

I  thought  of  the  dress  that  she  wore  last  time 
When  we  stood  'neath  the  cypress  trees  together, 

In  that  lost  land,  in  that  soft  clime, 
In  the  crimson  evening  weather  ; 

Of  that  muslin  dress  (for  the  eve  was  hot), 

And  her  warm  white  neck,  in  its  golden  chain, 

And  her  full  soft  hair,  just  tied  in  a  knot, 
And  falling  loose  again. 

And  the  jasmine  flower  in  her  fair  young  breast, 
(O,  the  faint,  sweet  smell  of  that  jasmine  flower  !) 

And  the  one  bird  singing  alone  to  his  nest  ; 
And  the  one  star  over  the  tower. 

I  thought  of  our  little  quarrels  and  strife, 

And  the  letter  that  brought  me  back  my  ring  ; 

And  it  all  seemed  then,  in  the  waste  of  life, 
Such  a  very  little  thing  ! 

For  I  thought  of  her  grave  below  the  hill, 
Which  the  sentinel  cypress-tree  stands  over ; 

And  I  thought  "Were  she  only  living  still, 
How  I  could  forgive  her  and  love  her ! " 

And  I  swear  as  I  thought  of  her  thus  in  that  hour, 

And  of  how,  after  all,  old  things  are  best, 
That  I  smelt  the  smell  of  that  jasmine  flower 

Which  she  used  to  wear  in  her  breast. 

It  smelt  so  faint,  and  it  smelt  so  sweet, 
It  made  me  creep,  and  it  made  me  cold> 


HOMER'S  REPRESENTATIVE  METHODS.  24$ 

Like  the  scent  that  steals  from  the  crumbling  sheet 
Where  a  mummy  is  half  unrolled. 

And  I  turned  and  looked  :  she  was  sitting  there, 

In  a  dim  box  over  the  stage  ;  and  drest 
In  that  muslin  dress,  with  that  full  soft  hair, 

And  that  jasmine  in  her  breast. 


My  thinking  of  her,  or  the  music's  strain, 
Or  something  which  never  will  be  exprest, 

Had  brought  her  back  from  the  grave  again, 
With  the  jasmine  in  her  breast. 


But  O,  the  smell  of  that  jasmine  flower, 

And  O,  that  music  !  and  O,  the  way 
That  voice  rang  out  from  the  dunjon  tower  : 

Non  ti  scordar  di  me, 
Non  ti  scordar  di  me  ! 

It  is  in  accordance  with  the  workings  of  observation 
and  memory  illustrated  here,  that  the  poet,  if  he  desire  to 
describe  persons  or  things  precisely  as  they  would  be  re- 
called by  a  narrator  who  had  perceived  them,  must  be 
careful  to  mention  but  a  few  items  in  his  representation, 
and  these  very  specifically,  so  that  they  will  seem  to  have 
been  seen  by  him,  and  not  merely  imagined.  He  must 
choose  these  items  too,  so  that  they  will  be  characteristic 
or  typical  of  the  whole  nature  of  the  objects  or  transac- 
tions of  which  they  form  parts.  He  must  dwell  upon 
those  features  which  would  naturally  attract  the  attention 
of  a  spectator  and  impress  him.  These  principles  are  so 
important,  and  so  frequently  illustrated  in  the  poetry  of 
Homer,  that,  before  dismissing  the  subject,  it  will  not  be 
out  of  place  to  give  several  examples  of  them.  Notice 
every  thing  in  the  following,  but  especially  the  italicized 
phrases  : 


246  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  helm 

Of  massive  brass  was  vain  to  stay  the  blow  : 
The  weapon  pierced  it  and  the  bone,  and  stained 
The  brain  with  blood  ;  it  felled  him  rushing  on. 
The  monarch  stripped  the  slain,  and,  leaving  them 
With  their  -white  bosoms  bare,  went  on  to  slay 
Isus  and  Antiphus,  King  Priam's  sons. 

— Iliad,  ii  :  Bryant's  Trans. 

Meanwhile 

Antilochus  against  his  charioteer, 
Mydon,  the  brave  son  of  Atymnias,  hurled 
A  stone  that  smote  his  elbow  as  he  wheeled 
His  firm-paced  steeds  in  flight.     He  dropped  the  reins, 
Gleaming  with  ivory  as  they  trailed  in  dust. 
Antilochus  leaped  forward,  smiting  him 
Upon  the  temples  with  his  sword.     He  fell 
Gasping  amidst  the  sand,  his  head  immersed 
Up  to  his  shoulders — for  the  sand  was  deep, — 
And  there  remained  till  he  was  beaten  down 

Before  the  horses'  hoofs. 

— Iliad,  5  :  Idem. 

And  now  the  mighty  spearman,  Phyleus'  son, 
Drew  near  and  smote  him  with  his  trenchant  lance 
Where  meet  the  head  and  spine,  and  pierced  the  neck 
Beneath  the  tongue  ;  and  forth  the  weapon  came 
Between  the  teeth.     He  fell,  and  in  the  fall 
Gnashed  with  his  teeth  upon  the  cold,  bright  blade. 

— Iliad,  5  :  Idem. 

Their  beloved  wives  meanwhile, 

And  their  young  children,  stood  and  watched  the  walls, 
With  aged  men  among  them,  while  the  youths 
Marched  on,  with  Mars  and  Pallas  at  their  head, 
Both  wrought  in  gold,  with  golden  garments  on, 
Stately  and  large  in  form,  and  over  all 
Conspicuous  in  bright  armor,  as  became 
The  gods  ;  the  rest  were  of  an  humbler  size. 

— Iliad,  1 8  :  Idem. 

Meantime  the  assembled  Greeks 
Sat  looking  where  the  horses  scoured  the  plain 
And  filled  the  air  with  dust.     Idomeneus, 


HOMER'S  REPRESENTATIVE  METHODS. 

The  lord  of  Crete,  descried  the  coursers  first, 

For  on  the  height  he  sat  above  the  crowd. 

He  heard  the  chief  encouraging  his  steeds, 

And  knew  him,  and  he  marked  before  the  rest 

A  courser,  chestnut-colored,  save  a  spot 

Upon  the  middle  of  the  forehead,  white, 

And  round  as  the  full  moon.     And  then  he  stood 

Upright,  and  from  his  place  harangued  the  Greeks. 

— Iliad,  23  :  Idem. 

The  following  is  a  very  different  kind  of  description,  but 
notice  in  it  the  same  characteristics — what  an  air  of  reality 
is  given  to  the  whole  by  the  specificness  with  which  a  few 
features  only,  and  these  the  typical  features  likely  to  im- 
press the  spectator,  are  mentioned.  Speaking  of  Heca- 
mede  it  is  said : 

First  she  drew  forth  a  table  fairly  wrought, 

Of  polished  surface,  and  -with  steel-blue  feet, 

And  on  it  placed  a  brazen  tray  which  bore 

A  thirst-provoking  onion,  honeycomb, 

And  sacred  meal  of  wheat.     Near  these  she  set 

A  noble  beaker  which  the  ancient  chief 

Had  brought  from  home,  embossed  with  studs  of  gold. 

Four  were  its  handles,  and  each  handle  showed 

Two  golden  turtles  feeding,  while  below 

Two  others  formed  the  base.     Another  hand 

Could  scarce  have  raised  that  beaker  from  its  place, 

But  Nestor  lifted  it  with  ease.     The  maid, 

Fair  as  a  goddess,  mingled  Pramnian  wine, 

And  grated  o'er  it,  with  a  rasp  of  brass, 

A  goat's-milk  cheese,  and,  sprinkling  the  white  flour 

Upon  it,  bade  them  drink.     With  this  they  quenched 

Their  parching  thirst,  and  then  amused  the  time 

With  pleasant  talk.     Patroclus  to  the  door 

Meantime,  a  god-like  presence,  came,  and  stood. 

The  old  man,  as  he  saw  him,  instantly 

Rose  from  his  princely  seat  and  seized  his  hand, 

And  led  him  in  and  bade  him  sit  ;  but  he 

Refused  the  proffered  courtesy,  and  said  : 

— Iliad,  1 1 :   Idem. 


248  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

William  von  Humboldt,  in  his  criticism  of  Goethe's 
Hermann  and  Dorothea,  directs  attention  to  a  similar 
characteristic  in  the  passage  in  which  Goethe  makes  his 
hero  describe  his  first  meeting  with  the  heroine.  Here  are 
Hermann's  words : 

Now  my  eyes,  as  I  made  my  way  along  the  new  street  there, 

Happen'd  to  light  on  a  wagon,  built  of  the  heaviest  timber, 

Drawn  by  a  pair  of  steers  of  the  largest  breed  and  stoutest. 

By  their  side  a  maid  with  vigorous  step  was  walking, 

Holding  a  long  staff  up  to  guide  the  strong  pair  onward, 

Starting  them  now,  then  stopping  them,  deftly  did  she  guide  them. 

One  who  was  less  of  an  artist,  instead  of  revealing  in  a 
single  glance  the  sturdy  swinging  gait  and  deftly  wielded 
staff,  which  were  enough  to  account  for  the  young  peas- 
ant's falling  in  love  with  Dorothea,  would  have  given  us 
a  lengthy  description  of  the  color  of  her  hair  and  eyes, 
the  crook  of  her  nose,  the  pout  of  her  lips,  the  whiteness 
of  her  teeth,  the  number  of  the  dimples  on  her  cheeks, 
with  a  minute  enumeration  probably  of  all  the  articles  of 
her  wearing  apparel,  as  in  the  following  from  The  Lovers 
of  Gudrun,  by  William  Morris : 

That  spring  was  she  just  come  to  her  full  height, 
Low-bosomed  yet  she  was,  and  slim  and  light, 
Yet  scarce  might  she  grow  fairer  from  that  day  ; 
Gold  were  the  locks  wherewith  the  wind  did  play, 
Finer  than  silk,  waved  softly  like  the  sea 
After  a  three  days'  calm,  and  to  her  knee 
Wellnigh  they  reached  ;  fair  were  the  white  hands  laid 
Upon  the  door-posts  where  the  dragons  played  ; 
•  Her  brow  was  smooth  now,  and  a  smile  began 
To  cross  her  delicate  mouth,  the  snare  of  man  ; 
For  some  thought  rose  within  the  heart  of  her 
That  made  her  eyes  bright,  her  cheeks  ruddier 
Than  was  their  wont,  yet  were  they  delicate 
As  are  the  changing  steps  of  high  heaven's  gate  ; 
Bluer  than  gray  her  eyes  were,  somewhat  thin 


HOMER'S  REPRESENTATIVE  METHODS.  249 

Her  marvellous  red  lips  ;  round  was  her  chin, 

Cloven  and  clear  wrought  ;  like  an  ivory  tower 

Rose  up  her  neck  from  love's  white-veiled  bower. 

But  in  such  lordly  raiment  was  she  clad 

As  midst  its  threads  the  scent  of  southlands  had, 

And  on  its  hem  the  work  of  such-like  hands 

As  deal  with  silk  and  gold  in  sunny  lands. 

Too  dainty  seemed  her  feet  to  come  anear 

The  guest-worn  threshold-stone.     So  stood  she  there 

And  rough  the  world  about  her  seemed  to  be, 

A  rude  heap  cast  up  from  the  weary  sea. 

—  The  Earthly  Paradise. 

In  a  similar  strain  he  describes  Olaf : 

Great-limbed  was  Olaf  Hauskuldson,  well  knit, 
And  like  a  chief  upon  his  horse  did  sit ; 
Clear-browed  and  wide-eyed  was  he,  smooth  of  skin 
Through  fifty  rough  years  ;  of  his  mother's  kin, 
The  Erse  king's  daughter,  did  his  short  lip  tell, 
And  dark-lashed,  gray-blue  eyes  ;  like  a  clear  bell 
His  voice  was  yet,  despite  of  waves  and  wind,  etc.,  etc. 

— Idem. 

Imagine  a  man  telling  a  story  in  natural  conversation, 
and  going  into  these  minute  particulars.  Imagine  him 
noticing  them  in  the  presence  of  the  characters  described. 
To  conceive  of  his  doing  it  is  almost  impossible.  There- 
fore the  detailing  of  them  imparts  an  air  of  unreality  to 
the  narrative  ;  and  for  this  reason  makes  it  also  uninter- 
esting. There  is  much  excellence,  however,  in  these  lines 
of  Morris,  aside  from  that  which  is  here  criticised.  To 
recognize  just  how  uninteresting  this  kind  of  description 
can  be,  as  well  as  how  much  less  it  really  tells  us  about 
the  persons  described  than  the  kind  of  representation  ex- 
emplified in  Homer  and  in  Hermann's  glimpse  of  Doro- 
thea, let  us  take  a  passage  less  excellent  in  other  regards 
than  that  of  Morris.  It  is  from  Southey's  Thalaba,  by 
many  considered  his  best  poem  : 


25O  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  stranger  was  an  ancient  man, 
Yet  one  whose  green  old  age 
Bore  the  fair  characters  of  temperate  youth  ; 
So  much  of  manhood's  strength  his  limbs  retained, 
It  seemed  he  needed  not  the  staff  he  bore. 
His  beard  was  long  and  gray  and  crisp  ; 
Lively  his  eyes  and  quick, 
And  reaching  over  them 
The  large  broad  eyebrow  curled. 
His  speech  was  copious,  and  his  winning  words 
Enriched  with  knowledge  that  the  attentive  youth 
Sat  listening  with  a  thirsty  joy. 

Notice  this  also : 

Black  were  his  eyes  and  bright ; 

The  sunny  hue  of  health 
Glowed  on  his  tawny  cheek  ; 
His  lip  was  darkened  by  maturing  life  ; 
Strong  were  his  shapely  limbs,  his  stature  tall, 
Peerless  among  Arabian  youths  was  he. 

— Idem. 

All  that  is  given  us  in  these  descriptions  might  be 
said  of  a  thousand  men  that  everybody  meets  in  a  life- 
time. Notice,  too,  in  the  same  poem,  this  microscopic 
description  of  a  locust : 

The  admiring  girl  surveyed 

His  outspread  sails  of  green  ; 

His  gauzy  underwings, 
One  closely  to  the  grass-green  body  furled, 
One  ruffled  in  the  fall,  and  half  unclosed. 

She  viewed  his  jet-orbed  eyes, 

His  gossy  gorget  bright, 

Green  glittering  in  the  sun  ; 

His  plumy  pliant  horns, 

That  nearer  as  she  gazed 
Bent  tremblingly  before  her  breath. 
She  marked  his  yellow-circled  front 

With  lines  mysterious  veined. 


HOMER'S  REPRESENTATIVE  METHODS.  2$l 

This  passage  suggests  a  fifth  characteristic  of  the  Ho- 
meric descriptions,  which  probably  is  the  underlying  and 
determining  cause  of  the  last  three.  It  is  that  they  are 
progressive, — the  fact  that  they  always  represent  what  is 
in  motion.  They  are  constructed  in  fulfilment  of  that 
principle  of  nature  first  noticed  by  Lessing  in  his  cele- 
brated criticism  on  "  The  Laocoon,"  in  accordance  with 
which  words  represent  ideas,  feelings,  events, — whatever 
it  may  be  to  which  they  give  expression — that  follow  one 
another  in  the  order  of  time.  In  the  last  passage  quoted 
from  Homer  we  are  not  told  what  Hecamede  found  on 
the  table  ;  the  poet  pictures  the  maid  in  the  act  of  spread- 
ing the  table  and  putting  the  different  articles  of  food  on 
it.  So  in  the  following  we  are  not  told  how  Patroclus  or 
Juno  looked  when  dressed  ;  but  we  are  told  how  they 
dressed  themselves.  The  successive  words  in  the  descrip- 
tions are  all  made  to  represent  successive  acts. 

He  spake  :  Patroclus,  then  in  glittering  brass, 
Arrayed  himself  ;  and  first  around  his  thighs 
He  put  the  beautiful  greaves,  and  fastened  them 
With  silver  clasps  ;  around  his  chest  he  bound 
The  breastplate  of  the  swift  ^Eacides, 
With  star-like  points,  and  richly  chased  ;  he  hung 
The  sword,  with  silver  studs  and  blade  of  brass, 
Upon  his  shoulders,  and  with  it  the  shield, 
Solid  and  vast ;  upon  his  gallant  head 
He  placed  the  glorious  helm  with  horsehair  plume, 
That  grandly  waved  on  high.     Two  massive  spears 
He  took,  that  fitted  well  his  grasp,  but  left 
The  spear  which  great  Achilles  only  bore, 
Heavy  and  huge  and  strong,  and  which  no  arm 
Among  the  Greeks  save  his  could  poise. 

— Iliad,  16:  Bryant, 

She  entered  in 

And  closed  the  shining  doors  ;  and  first  she  took 
Ambrosial  water,  washing  every  stain 


252  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTA  TIVE  AR  T. 

From  her  fair  limbs,  and  smoothed  them  with  rich  oil, 

Ambrosial,  soft,  and  fragrant,  which,  when  touched 

Within  Jove's  brazen  halls,  perfumed  the  air 

Of  earth  and  heaven.     When  thus  her  shapely  form 

Had  been  anointed,  and  her  hands  had  combed 

Her  tresses,  she  arranged  the  lustrous  curls, 

Ambrosial,  beautiful,  that  clustering  hung 

Round  her  immortal  brow.     And  next  she  threw 

Around  her  an  ambrosial  robe,  the  work 

Of  Pallas,  all  its  web  embroidered  o'er 

With  forms  of  rare  device.     She  fastened  it 

Over  the  breast  with  clasps  of  gold,  and  then 

She  passed  about  her  waist  a  zone  which  bore 

Fringes  an  hundred-fold,  and  in  her  ears 

She  hung  her  three-gemmed  ear-rings,  from  whose  gleam 

She  won  an  added  grace.     Around  her  head 

The  glorious  goddess  drew  a  flowing  veil, 

Just  from  the  loom,  and  shining  like  the  sun  ; 

And,  last,  beneath  her  bright  white  feet  she  bound 

The  shapely  sandals.     Gloriously  arrayed 

In  all  her  ornaments,  she  left  her  bower. 

— Iliad,  14  :  Idem. 

So  when  Homer  describes  a  camp,  he  connects  it  with 
action  ;  we  are  told  of  a  process  of  building  or  of  demoli- 
tion. 

And  ere  the  morning  came,  while  earth  was  gray 
With  twilight,  by  the  funeral  pile  arose 
A  chosen  band  of  Greeks,  who,  going  forth, 
Heaped  round  it  from  the  earth  a  common  tomb 
For  all,  and  built  a  wall  and  lofty  towers 
Near  it, — a  bulwark  for  the  fleet  and  host. 
And  in  the  wall  they  fitted  massive  gates, 
Through  which  there  passed  an  ample  chariot-way  j 
And  on  its  outer  edge  they  sank  a  trench, — 
Broad,  deep, — and  planted  it  with  pointed  stakes. 
So  labored  through  the  night  the  long-haired  Greeks. 

— Iliad,  7  :  Idem. 

For  those 

Trusting  in  portents  sent  from  Jupiter, 
And  their  own  valor,  labored  to  break  through 


HOMER'S  REPRESENTATIVE  METHODS.  2$$ 

The  massive  rampart  of  the  Greeks  ;  they  tore 

The  galleries  from  the  towers,  and  levelled  down 

The  breastworks,  heaved  with  levers  from  their  place 

The  jutting  buttresses  which  Argive  hands 

Had  firmly  planted  to  support  the  towers, 

And  brought  them  to  the  ground  ;  and  thus  they  hoped 

To  force  a  passage  to  the  Grecian  camp. 

— Iliad,  12  :  Idem. 

Even  in  Homer's  references  to  natural  scenery,  we  find 
every  thing  in  constant  motion.  Notice  these  traits  in  his 
description  of  the  fire  kindled  by  Vulcan  in  order  to  save 
the  Greeks  from  the  flood. 

The  ground  was  dried  ;  the  glimmering  flood  was  staid. 

As  when  the  autumnal  north- wind,  breathing  o'er 

A  newly  watered  garden,  quickly  dries 

The  clammy  mould,  and  makes  the  tiller  glad, 

So  did  the  spacious  plain  grow  dry  on  which 

The  dead  were  turned  to  ashes.     Then  the  god 

Seized  on  the  river  with  his  glittering  fires. 

The  elms,  the  willows,  and  the  tamarisks 

Fell,  scorched  to  cinders,  and  the  lotus-herbs, 

Rushes,  and  reeds,  that  richly  fringed  the  banks 

Of  that  fair-flowing  current,  were  consumed. 

The  eels  and  fishes,  that  were  wont  to  glide 

Hither  and  thither  through  the  pleasant  depths 

And  eddies,  languished  in  the  fiery  breath 

Of  Vulcan,  mighty  artisan.     The  strength 

Of  the  greatest  river  withered. 

— Iliad,  21  :  Idem. 

So  a  snow-storm  seems  interesting  to  him  mainly  be- 
cause it  is  doing  something,  and  can  be  used  as  an  illus- 
tration of  something  else  that  is  doing  something ;  e.  g., 

As  when  the  flakes 
Of  snow  fall  thick  upon  a  winter-day, 
When  Jove  the  Sovereign  pours  them  down  on  men, 
Like  arrows,  from  above  ; — he  bids  the  wind 
Breathe  not :  continually  he  pours  them  down, 


254  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

And  covers  every  mountain-top  and  peak, 
And  flowery  mead,  and  field  of  fertile  tilth, 
And  sheds  them  on  the  havens  and  the  shores 
Of  the  gray  deep  ;  but  there  the  waters  bound 
The  covering  of  snows, — all  else  is  white 
Beneath  that  fast-descending  shower  of  Jove  j — 
So  thick  the  shower  of  stones  from  either  side 
Flew  toward  the  other. 

— Iliad,  12  :  Idem. 

Notice  also  the  account  of  the  action  of  the  water  in 
this, — how  he  portrays  the  struggle  of  Achilles  with  it,  in 
such  a  way  as  to  make  the  whole  living  and  graphic. 
Here,  too,  the  mental  quality  appears  again.  The  water 
itself  seems  interesting  to  the  narrator,  mainly  because  of 
its  connection  with  the  actions  of  a  man  with  whom 
he  sympathizes. 

And  then  Achilles,  mighty  with  the  spear, 

From  the  steep  bank  leaped  into  the  mid-stream, 

While,  foul  with  ooze,  the  angry  River  raised 

His  waves,  and  pushed  along  the  heaps  of  dead, 

Slain  by  Achilles.     These,  with  mighty  roar 

As  of  a  bellowing  ox,  Scamander  cast 

Aground  ;  the  living  with  his  whirling  gulfs 

He  hid,  and  saved  them  in  his  friendly  streams. 

In  tumult  terribly  the  surges  rose 

Around  Achilles,  beating  on  his  shield, 

And  made  his  feet  to  stagger,  till  he  grasped 

A  tall,  fair-growing  elm  upon  the  bank. 

Down  came  the  tree,  and  in  its  loosened  roots 

Brought  the  earth  with  it ;  the  fair  stream  was  checked 

By  the  thick  branches,  and  the  prostrate  trunk 

Bridged  it  from  side  to  side.     Achilles  sprang 

From  the  deep  pool,  and  fled  with  rapid  feet 

Across  the  plain  in  terror.     Nor  did  then 

The  mighty  river-god  refrain,  but  rose 

Against  him  with  a  darker  crest.     .     .     . 

.     .     .     .     Askance 

He  fled  ;  the  waters  with  a  mighty  roar 

Followed  him  close.     As  when  a  husbandman 


HOMER'S  REPRESENTATIVE  METHODS.  2$$ 

Leads  forth,  from  some  dark  spring  of  earth,  a  rill 

Among  his  planted  garden-beds,  and  clears 

Its  channel,  spade  in  hand,  the  pebbles  there 

Move  with  the  current,  which  runs  murmuring  down 

The  sloping  surface  and  outstrips  its  guide, — 

So  rushed  the  waves  where'er  Achilles  ran, 

Swift  as  he  was  ;  for  mightier  are  the  gods 

Than  men.     As  often  as  the  noble  son 

Of  Peleus  made  a  stand,  in  hope  to  know 

Whether  the  deathless  gods  of  the  great  heaven 

Conspired  to  make  him  flee,  so  often  came 

A  mighty  billow  of  the  Jove-born  stream 

And  drenched  his  shoulders.     Then  again  he  sprang 

Away  ;  the  rapid  torrent  made  his  knees 

To  tremble,  while  it  swept,  where'er  he  trod, 

The  earth  from  underneath  his  feet.     He  looked 

To  the  broad  heaven  above  him  and  complained. 

— Iliad,  21  :  Bryanfs  Trs. 

Look  now  at  the  way  in  which  Homer  describes  the 
scenes  by  which  some  of  his  heroes  pass  in  flight.  How 
few  comparatively  are  the  objects  that  are  noticed,  yet 
how  specifically  do  they  indicate  the  typical  features, 
which  in  such  circumstances  one  would  see  and  re- 
member, and  from  which,  in  the  rapid  glance  that  he 
would  have  of  every  thing,  he  would  derive  all  his  im- 
pressions. 

They  passed  the  Mount  of  View, 
And  the  wind-beaten  fig-tree,  and  they  ran 
Along  the  public  way  by  which  the  wall 
Was  skirted,  till  they  came  where  from  the  ground 
The  two  fair  springs  of  eddying  Xanthus  rise, — 
One  pouring  a  warm  stream  from  which  ascends 
And  spreads  a  vapor  like  a  smoke  from  fire  ; 
The  other  even  in  summer,  sending  forth 
A  current  cold  as  hail,  or  snow,  or  ice. 
And  there  were  broad  stone  basins,  fairly  wrought, 
At  which  in  time  of  peace  before  the  Greeks 
Had  landed  on  the  plain,  the  Trojan  dames 


POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

And  their  fair  daughters  washed  their  sumptuous  robes. 
Past  these  they  swept  ;  one  fled  and  one  pursued, — 
A  brave  man  fled,  a  braver  followed  close, 
And  swiftly  both. 

— Iliad,  22  :  Idem. 

Meantime  the  Trojans  fled  across  the  plain 

Toward  the  wild  fig-tree  growing  near  the  tomb 

Of  ancient  Ilus,  son  of  Dardanus, — 

Eager  to  reach  the  town  ;  and  still  the  son 

Of  Atreus  followed,  shouting,  and  with  hands 

Blood-stained  and  dust-begrimmed.     And  when  they  reached 

The  Scsean  portals  and  the  beechen  tree, 

They  halted,  waiting  for  the  rear,  like  beeves 

Chased  panting  by  a  lion  who  has  come 

At  midnight  on  them,  and  has  put  the  herd 

To  flight,  and  one  of  them  to  certain  death. 

******* 
Thus  did  Atrides  Agamemnon  chase 
The  Trojans  ;  still  he  slew  the  hindmost  ;  still 
They  fled  before  him.     Many  by  his  hand 
Fell  from  their  chariots  prone,  for  terrible 
Beyond  all  others  with  the  spear  was  he. 
But  when  he  now  was  near  the  city  wall, 
The  Father  of  immortals  and  of  men 
Came  down  from  the  high  heaven,  and  took  his  seat 
On  many-fountained  Ida. 

— Iliad,  II  :  Idem. 

Now  contrast  with  these  the  following  description.  It 
is  not  a  poor  one  of  its  kind  ;  but  all  must  perceive  that  a 
poem  characterized  by  many  passages  like  it,  could  not  be 
in  the  highest  degree  interesting.  Such  descriptions,  on 
account  of  their  lack  of  the  qualities  noticed  in  those  of 
Homer,  tend  to  interrupt  the  plot  and  the  interest  felt  in 
its  characters.  Besides  this,  of  the  many  items  mentioned 
here,  few  are  described  with  sufficient  specificness  to  make 
us  feel  that  they  were  really  perceived,  and  not  merely 
fancied. 


HOMER'S  REPRESENTATIVE  METHODS. 

It  was  broad  moonlight,  and  obscure  or  lost 

The  garden  beauties  lay  ; 

But  the  great  boundary  rose  distinctly  marked. 

These  were  no  little  hills, 

No  sloping  uplands  lifting  to  the  sun 

Their  vineyards  with  fresh  verdure,  and  the  shade 

Of  ancient  woods,  courting  the  loiterer 

To  win  the  easy  ascent ;  stone  mountains  these, 

Desolate  rock  on  rock, 

The  burdens  of  the  earth, 

Whose  snowy  summits  met  the  morning  beam 

When  night  was  in  the  vale,  whose  feet  were  fixed 

In  the  world's  foundations.     Thalaba  beheld 

The  heights  precipitous, 

Impending  crags,  rocks  unascendible, 

And  summits  that  had  tired  the  eagle's  wing  : 

"  There  is  no  way  !  "  he  said. 

Paler  Oneiza  grew, 

And  hung  upon  his  arm  a  feebler  weight. 

But  soon  again  to  hope 

Revives  the  Arabian  maid, 

As  Thalaba  imparts  the  sudden  thought. 

44 1  passed  a  river,"  cried  the  youth, 

44  A  full  and  copious  stream. 

The  flowing  waters  cannot  be  restrained  ; 

And  where  they  find  or  force  their  way, 

There  we  perchance  may  follow  ;  thitherward 

The  current  rolled  along." 

So  saying,  yet  again  in  hope 

Quickening  their  eager  steps, 

They  turned  them  thitherward. 

Silent  and  calm  the  river  rolled  along, 

And  at  the  verge  arrived 

Of  that  fair  garden  o'er  a  rocky  bed, 

Toward  the  mountain  base 

Still  full  and  silent,  held  its  even  way. 

But  farther  as  they  went,  its  deepening  sound 

Louder  and  louder  in  the  distance  rose, 

As  if  it  forced  its  stream 

Straggling  through  crags  along  a  narrow  pass. 


2$8  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

And  lo  !  where,  raving  o'er  a  hollow  course, 

The  ever-flowing  flood 

Foams  in  a  thousand  whirlpools.     There  adown 

The  perforated  rock 

Plunge  the  whole  waters  ;  so  precipitous, 

So  fathomless  a  fall, 

That  their  earth-shaking  roar  came  deadened  up 

Like  subterranean  thunders. 

—  Thalaba,  7  :  Southey. 

The  following  description,  similar  in  general  character, 
is  more  interesting,  because  it  is  more  specific  and  shorter: 

Onward  amid  the  copse  'gan  peep, 
A  narrow  inlet,  still  and  deep, 
Affording  scarce  such  breadth  of  brim, 
As  served  the  wild-duck's  brood  to  swim. 
Lost  for  a  space,  through  thickets  veering, 
But  broader  when  again  appearing, 
Tall  rocks  and  tufted  knolls  their  face 
Could  on  the  dark-blue  mirror  trace  ; 
And  farther  as  the  hunter  strayed, 
Still  broader  sweep  its  channels  made. 
The  shaggy  mounds  no  longer  stood, 
Emerging  from  entangled  wood, 
But,  wave-encircled,  seemed  to  float, 
Like  castle  girdled  with  its  moat ; 
Yet  broader  fields  extending  still 
Divide  them  from  their  parent  hill, 
Till  each,  retiring,  claims  to  be 
An  islet  in  an  inland  sea. 

— Lady  of  the  Lake,  I  :  Scott. 

But  this  is  still  more  interesting,  because  it  represents 
action  that  is  closely  connected  with  the  plot. 

Then  did  Apollo  and  the  god  of  sea 

Consult  together  to  destroy  the  wall 

By  turning  on  it  the  resistless  might 

Of  rivers.     .     .     . 

.     .     .     nine  days  against  the  wall 

He  bade  their  currents  rush,  while  Jupiter 

Poured  constant  rain,  that  floods  might  overwhelm 


HOMER'S  REPRESENTATIVE  METHODS.  259 

The  rampart  ;  and  the  god  who  shakes  the  earth, 

Wielding  his  trident,  led  the  rivers  on. 

He  flung  among  the  billows  the  huge  beams 

And  stones  which,  with  hard  toil,  the  Greeks  had  laid 

For  the  foundations.     Thus  he  levelled  all 

Beside  the  hurrying  Hellespont,  destroyed 

The  bulwarks  utterly,  and  overspread 

The  long,  broad  shore  with  sand. 

— Iliad,  12  :  Bryants  Trs. 

The  principles  that  apply  to  these  representations  of 
persons  and  scenes  in  nature,  apply  also  to  conversa- 
tions in  dramatic  poems.  All  lengthy  descriptions  or 
declamatory  passages  that  have  nothing  to  do  directly 
with  giving  definiteness,  character,  and  progress  to  the 
plot,  detract  from  the  interest  of  the  poem,  considered  as 
a  whole.  The  effect  of  these  things  upon  the  form  is  the 
same  as  that  of  rubbish  thrown  into  the  current  of  a 
stream — it  impedes  the  movement,  and  renders  the  water 
less  transparent.  This  is  the  chief  reason  why  the  works 
of  the  dramatists  of  the  age  of  the  history  of  our  literature 
commonly  called  classical,  like  Dryden,  Addison,  Rowe, 
Home,  and  Brooke,  notwithstanding  much  that  is  ex- 
cellent in  their  writings,  have  not  been  able  to  maintain 
their  popularity.  Ordinary  audiences  do  not  go  to  the 
theatre  to  be  preached  at  in  this  style : 

These  are  all  virtues  of  a  meaner  rank — 
Perfections  that  are  placed  in  bones  and  nerves. 
A  Roman  soul  is  bent  on  higher  views  : 
To  civilize  the  rude,  unpolished  world, 
And  lay  it  under  the  restraint  of  laws  ; 
To  make  man  mild  and  sociable  to  man  ; 
To  cultivate  the  wild,  licentious  savage 
With  wisdom,  discipline,  and  liberal  arts, 
The  embellishments  of  life  ;  virtues  like  these 
Make  human  nature  shine,  reform  the  soul, 
And  break  our  fierce  barbarians  into  men. 

— Catot  i,  4  :  Addison. 


260  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Some  may  suppose  that  the  chief  reason  why  such  pas- 
sages as  these,  and  those  quoted  from  Southey,  are  not 
popular,  is  because  they  manifest  so  few  evidences  of  the 
work  of  constructive  imagination,  by  which  is  meant 
mainly  that  they  contain  so  little  figurative  language. 

Yet,  we  have  seen  that  some  of  Homer's  descriptions 
are  equally  lacking  in  figures.  It  is  not  merely  this  that 
renders  a  description  inartistic.  It  is  its  failure  to  be  truly 
representative.  For  this  reason  the  mere  addition  to  it  of 
figurative  language  would  not  remedy  its  defects. 

This  fact,  however,  will  be  considered  at  full  in  other 
chapters.  The  present  chapter  will  be  closed  with  a  few 
quotations  exemplifying,  beyond  what  has  been  done  in 
the  preceding  passages,  how  Homer  carries  the  principles 
now  under  consideration  into  his  illustrative  representa- 
tion. In  the  descriptions  used  in  order  to  exemplify  the 
main  thought  in  the  following,  will  be  found  the  same 
characteristics  as  in  those  making  up  the  main  thought 
in  most  of  the  preceding  quotations.  It  will  be  noticed 
that  the  items  forming  the  features  of  every  separate 
figure,  mentioned  for  the  sake  of  comparison,  are  pre- 
sented in  the  same  mental,  fragmentary,  specific,  typical 
and  progressive  way  with  which  we  may  now  be  supposed 
to  have  become  familiar. 

The  hero  was  aroused 

To  fury  fierce  as  Mars  when  brandishing 

His  spear,  or  as  a  desolating  flame 

That  rages  on  a  mountain-side  among 

The  thickets  of  a  close-grown  wood.     His  lips 

Were  white  with  foam  ;  his  eyes  from  underneath 

His  frowning  brows  streamed  fire  ;  and  as  he  fought, 

Upon  the  hero's  temples  fearfully 

The  helmet  nodded.     .     .     . 

Through  the  serried  lines 
He  could  not  break  ;  the  Greeks  in  solid  squares 


HOMER'S  REPRESENTATIVE  METHODS.  261 

Resisted,  like  a  rock  that  huge  and  high 

By  the  gray  deep  abides  the  bufferings 

Of  the  shrill  winds  and  swollen  waves  that  beat 

Against  it.     Firmly  thus  the  Greeks  withstood 

The  Trojan  host,  and  fled  not.     In  a  blaze 

Of  armor,  Hector,  rushing  toward  their  ranks, 

Fell  on  them  like  a  mighty  billow  raised 

By  the  strong  cloud-born  winds,  that  flings  itself 

On  a  swift  ship,  and  whelms  it  in  its  spray. 

— Iliad,  15  :  Bryants  Try. 

Then  Pallas  to  Tydides  Diomed 
Gave  strength  and  courage,  that  he  might  appear 
Among  the  Achaians  greatly  eminent, 
And  win  a  glorious  name.     Upon  his  head 
And  shield  she  caused  a  constant  flame  to  play, 
Like  to  the  autumnal  star  that  shines  in  heaven 
Most  brightly  when  new-bathed  in  ocean  tides. 
Such  light  she  caused  to  beam  upon  his  crest 
And  shoulders,  as  she  sent  the  warrior  forth 
Into  the  thick  and  tumult  of  the  fight. 

— Iliad.  5  :  Idem 

All  the  Greeks 

Meanwhile  came  thronging  to  the  appointed  place. 
As  swarming  forth  from  cells  within  the  rock, 
Coming  and  coming  still  the  tribe  of  bees 
Fly  in  a  cluster  o'er  the  flowers  of  spring, 
And  some  are  darting  out  from  right  to  left. 
So  from  the  ships  and  tents  a  multitude 
Along  the  spacious  beach  in  mighty  throngs 
Moved  toward  the  assembly. 

—Iliad,  2  :  Idem, 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ALLOYED   REPRESENTATION:   ITS   GENESIS. 

Alloy  introduces  Unpoetic  Elements  into  Verse — All  Classic  Representation 
Pure — Tendencies  in  Poetic  Composition  leading  to  Alloyed  Represen- 
tation— In  Direct  Representation — In  Illustrative  Representation — 
Lawful  to  enlarge  by  Illustrations  an  Idea  Great  and  Complex  or  Small 
and  Simple — Descriptions  of  a  Meal — Sunset — Peasant — Sailor — How 
these  Tendencies  may  introduce  Alloy  that  does  not  represent — Exag- 
gerations in  Love-Scenes — In  Descriptions  of  Natural  Scenery,  etc.— 
In  Allegorical  Poems  and  Sensational  Plays. 

"\7UrE  will  examine  now  the  form  of  representation 
which,  in  contrast  to  pure,  has  been  termed  al- 
loyed. This  latter,  as  has  been  said,  while  following  in 
the  main  the  methods  of  picturing  the  thoughts  that  are 
used  in  pure  representation,  always  introduces  something 
into  the  picture  in  addition  to  what  would  naturally  be 
perceived  in  connection  with  circumstances  like  those  that 
are  being  detailed.  At  first  thought,  it  might  be  sup- 
posed that  these  additions  would  not  greatly  impair  the 
poetry  in  which  we  find  them.  But  the  fallacy  of  this 
supposition  will  appear,  when  we  recall  that  poetry  is 
an  art,  and  that  all  art  is  representative.  It  follows  from 
this  that  the  purer  the  representation,  the  purer  will  be 
the  art,  and  in  the  degree  in  which  any  thing  is  added  to 
the  representation, — any  thing,  that  is,  of  such  a  nature 
*hat  in  like  circumstances  it  could  not  presumably 

262 


GENESIS  OF  ALLO  YED  REPRESENTA  TION.        263 

have  been  perceived, — in  that  degree  will  the  product  be 
likely  to  lose  its  artistic  qualities. 

Some  who  may  not  recognize  the  truth  of  this  state- 
ment, when  viewed  from  a  theoretical  standpoint,  may, 
when  viewed  from  a  practical.  Let  us  look  at  it  in  this 
way  then  :  whatever  is  added  to  the  representation  must 
come,  in  the  last  analysis,  from  the  artist ;  and  from  him, 
when  not  exercising  his  legitimate  artistic  functions ; 
when,  instead  of  giving  us  a  picture  of  nature  and  man,  as 
he  finds  them,  he  has  begun  to  give  us  his  own  explana- 
tions and  theories  concerning  them.  Now  all  explana- 
tion and  theories,  as  we  know,  are  necessarily  the  out- 
growth— if  not  of  ignorance  or  superstition — at  least  of 
the  intellectual  or  spiritual  condition  of  the  age  in  which 
one  lives.  For  this  reason,  to  a  succeeding  age  they  are 
not  satisfactory,  even  if  they  do  not  prove  to  be  wholly 
fallacious ;  and  a  work  of  science  or  philosophy  that  is 
made  up  of  them  usually  dies,  because  men  outgrow  their 
need  of  it,  and  do  not  care  to  keep  it  alive.  A  work  of 
artistic  poetry,  on  the  contrary,  lives  because  its  pages 
image  the  phenomena  of  nature,  and  of  human  life,  which 
can  really  be  perceived,  and  most  of  these  remain  from 
age  to  age  unchanged.  A  writer  who  confines  himself  to 
these,  which  alone  can  be  used  legitimately  in  representa- 
tion, is,  as  Jonson  1  said  of  Shakespear,  "  not  of  an  age  but 
for  all  time  "  ;  and  this  fact  can  be  affirmed  of  men  like 
him  alone.  Out  of  the  thousands  of  poems  written  in  the 
past,  only  those  have  come  down  to  us,  and  are  termed 
classic,  which  are  characterized  by  an  absence  of  explana- 
tions and  theories,  and  a  presence  of  that  kind  of  repre- 
sentation which  has  here  been  termed  pure.  How 
important,  then,  it  is  for  the  poet  of  the  present  to  under- 

1  To  the  memory  of  my  beloved  master  William  Shakespear. 


264  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

stand  just  what  the  nature  and  requirements  of  this 
pure  representation  are,  and  what  are  the  methods  of 
rendering  it  alloyed  that  should  be  avoided. 

We  shall  start  at  the  beginning  of  our  subject,  if  we 
notice,  first,  certain  influences  tending  to  divert  the  poet 
from  his  legitimate  work,  and  causing  him  to  depart  from 
the  methods  of  pure  representation.  These  will  be  con- 
sidered in  the  present  chapter. 

Taking  up  first  in  order  direct  representation,  it  follows, 
from  what  has  been  said  already,  that  composition  in  the 
plain  language  of  this  form  can  be  nothing  except  prose, 
the  moment  the  writer  ceases  to  think  in  pictures ;  the 
moment,  therefore,  that,  without  using  figurative  lan- 
guage, he  begins  to  be  didactic  or  argumentative.  Notice 
how  easy  it  would  be  to  glide  into  prose  from  a  passage 
like  the  following.  All  that  saves  it,  as  it  is,  are  the  pic- 
tures of  William,  of  the  two  women,  and  of  the  old  man, 
which,  as  we  read  it,  rise  up  irresistibly  before  the  im- 
agination. 

"  O  Sir,  when  William  died,  he  died  at  peace 

With  all  men  ;  for  I  asked  him,  and  he  said, 

He  could  not  ever  rue  his  marrying  me. 

I  had  been  a  patient  wife  :  but,  Sir,  he  said 

That  he  was  wrong  to  cross  his  father  thus  : 

'  God  bless  him  ! '  he  said,  '  and  may  he  never  know 

The  troubles  I  have  gone  through  ! '     Then  he  turned 

His  face  and  passed — unhappy  that  I  am  ! 

But  now,  Sir,  let  me  have  my  boy,  for  you 

Will  make  him  hard,  and  he  will  learn  to  slight 

His  father's  memory  ;  and  take  Dora  back, 

And  let  all  this  be  as  it  was  before." 

So  Mary  said,  and  Dora  hid  her  face 

By  Mary.     There  was  silence  in  the  room  } 

And  all  at  once  the  old  man  burst  in  sobs  : — 

"  I  have  been  to  blame — to  blame  !    I  have  killed  my  son  !  " 

— Dora  :  Tennyson. 


GENESIS  OF  ALLOYED  REPRESENTATION.        26$ 

Following  chapters  will  contain  so  many  contrasted 
passages  of  pure  and  alloyed  representation  in  the  direct 
form,  that  it  would  be  superfluous  to  introduce  any  more 
of  them  here.  Besides  this,  whatever  poetic  principles 
their  introduction  would  illustrate,  can  be  brought  out  as 
well  while  we  go  on  to  consider  what  is  a  far  more  im- 
portant part  of  our  present  discussion,  namely,  the  influ- 
ences tending  to  divert  the  poet  from  his  legitimate  work 
when  composing  in  figurative  language. 

As  all  illegitimate  tendencies  are  usually  developed  in 
some  way  from  legitimate  ones,  perhaps  the  best  method 
of  approaching  our  present  subject  is  to  start  by  recalling 
what  has  been  said  before  with  reference  to  the  necessity,  in 
order  to  express  certain  phases  of  thought,  of  a  poet's 
writing  in  figurative  language.  From  this  necessity  it 
follows  that  he  will  be  impelled  to  use  figures  whenever,  for 
any  reason,  he  feels  that  plain  language  will  not  serve  his 
purpose.  Two  circumstances,  inclusive,  in  a  broad  way, 
of  many  others,  will  justify  him,  as  we  can  see,  in  having 
this  feeling :  first,  where  the  impression  to  be  conveyed  is 
very  great  or  complex  in  its  nature.  Very  frequently,  in 
these  circumstances,  plain  direct  representation  might  not 
only  fail  to  do  justice  to  the  subject,  but  might  positively 
misrepresent  it.  Milton  wished  to  convey  an  impression 
of  the  size  and  power  of  Satan.  It  would  scarcely  have 
been  possible  for  him  to  do  this  adequately  without  mak- 
ing his  representation  illustrative ;  and  by  taking  this 
course  he  has  furnished  us  with  an  example  of  a  pure  and 
legitimate  use  of  this  form. 

Thus  Satan  talking  to  his  nearest  mate, 
With  head  uplift  above  the  wave,  and  eyes 
That  sparkling  blazed  ;  his  other  parts  besides 
Prone  on  the  flood,  extended  long  and  large, 


266  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Lay  floating  many  a  rood,  in  bulk  as  huge 
As  whom  the  fables  name  of  monstrous  size, 
Titanian,  or  Earth-born,  that  warr'd  on  Jove, 
Briaretis,  or  Typhon,  whom  the  den 
By  ancient  Tarsus  held,  or  that  sea-beast 
Leviathan,  which  God  of  all  his  works 
Created  hugest  that  swim  th'  ocean  stream  : 
Him  haply  slumb'ring  on  the  Norway  foam, 
The  pilot  of  some  small  night-founder'd  skiff 
Deeming  some  island,  oft,  as  seamen  tell, 
With  fixed  anchor  in  his  scaly  rind 
Moors  by  his  side  under  the  lea,  while  night 
Invests  the  sea,  and  wished  for  morn  delays  : 
So  stretched  out  huge  in  length  the  arch-fiend  lay, 
Chained  on  the  burning  lake,  nor  ever  thence 
Had  risen  or  heav'd  his  head. 

— Paradise  Lost,  I. 

The  second  circumstance  that  justifies  a  writer  in  feeling 
that  he  must  not  use  direct  representation  is  this : — not 
the  fact  that  the  impression  to  be  conveyed  is  too  great 
or  complex  to  be  represented  truthfully  in  this  manner, 
but  just  the  opposite : — the  fact  that  it  is  too  small  and 
simple  to  be  represented  adequately  in  this  manner. 
When  the  scene  to  be  described  is  one  that  in  itself  is 
fitted  to  awaken  the  deepest  and  grandest  feelings  and 
thoughts,  then,  as  in  the  concluding  paragraph  of "  Paradise 
Lost,"  given  a  few  pages  back,  direct  representation  is  all 
that  is  needed.  Wherever,  in  fact,  the  ideas  to  be  pre- 
sented are  sublime  or  pathetic  in  themselves,  the  one 
thing  necessary  is  that  the  reader  should  realize  them  as 
they  are  ;  and  any  indirectness  in  the  style  rather  hinders 
than  furthers  this.  A  celebrated  preacher  once  said  tiiat 
passages  in  his  sermons  that  were  full  of  thought  he  de- 
livered calmly,  but  when  he  came  to  passages  that  were 
destitute  of  it,  he  instinctively  felt  that  it  w^is  time  for 
him  to  "  holler."  A  similar  principle  is  apt  to  control  style 


GENESIS  OF  ALLOYED  REPRESENTATION.        267 

in  poetry.  Indeed,  the  main  reason  for  the  large  pre- 
ponderance of  direct  over  illustrative  representation  in  the 
works  of  Homer  and  of  the  Greek  tragedians,  is  un- 
doubtedly this, — that  most  of  the  persons  and  actions  of 
which  they  treated  were  heroic  in  their  nature.  They 
needed  only  to  be  represented  as  they  were,  in  order  to 
awaken  admiration.  It  is  the  boast  of  our  modern  times, 
however,  that  we  have  learned  to  take  an  interest  in  com- 
mon men  and  actions.  The  poet  feels  that  he  misses  that 
which  perhaps  is  noblest  in  his  mission  if  he  fail  to  help 
the  humblest  of  his  fellows,  physically,  mentally,  socially, 
morally,  and  spiritually,  by  doing  his  best  to  lead  them 
out  of  the  condition  of  poor  Peter  Bell.  He,  as  you 
may  remember, 

Had  danced  his  round  with  Highland  lasses  ; 
And  he  had  lain  beside  his  asses 
On  lofty  Cheviot  Hills  : 

****** 
And  all  along  the  indented  coast, 
Bespattered  with  the  salt-sea  foam  ; 
Where'er  a  knot  of  houses  lay, 
On  headland,  or  in  hollow  bay  ; — 
Sure  never  man  like  him  did  roam  ! 

****** 
He  travelled  here,  he  travelled  there: — 
But  not  the  value  of  a  hair 
Was  heart  or  head  the  better. 

****** 
In  vain  through  every  changeful  year, 
Did  Nature  lead  him  as  before  ; 
A  primrose  by  a  river's  brim, 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 
And  it  was  nothing  more. 

—Peter Bell:   Wordsworth. 

Out  of  this  condition  it  is  the  duty  of  the  poet  to  bring 


268  POETRY  AS  A  REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

mankind  by  revealing  to  them,  by  "  the  light '  that  never 
was  on  sea  or  land,"  the  poetry  that  lies  concealed  in  the 
surroundings  and  experiences  of  ordinary  life. 

Inasmuch,  however,  as  this  poetry  lies  concealed  in  or- 
dinary life,  the  poet  is  compelled  to  do  more  than  simply 
to  represent  ordinary  life.  He  must  make  this  appear  to 
be  more  than  it  seems  to  be  ;  and  he  must  do  so  by 
making  more  of  his  poetic  form  than  can  be  done  in 
direct  representation.  We  all  know  how  ladies  taking  up 
a  temporay  residence  for  the  summer  in  small  seaside  cot- 
tages, erected  without  paint  or  plaster,  make  up  for  the 
lack  of  other  beautifying  elements,  by  tacking  all  over  the 
walls  Japanese  fans  and  screens  of  innumerable  hues,  in- 
termingled with  wreaths  of  evergreen  and  myrtle  ;  or 
how,  when  they  rent  furnished  houses  in  which  the  colors 
of  the  carpets,  chairs,  and  wall  papers  do  not  harmonize, 
they  spread  tidies,  afghans,  and  ornaments  of  all  possi- 
ble shades  over  sofas  and  mantles,  so  as  to  produce  effects 
pleasing  by  way  of  combination  and  variety,  where  it  is 
impossible  to  have  simplicity  aud  unity.  All  this  is  an 
illustration  of  cheap  ornamentation.  Yet  it  is  justifiable 
in  such  circumstances.  The  tendency  producing  it  is 
exercised  unjustifiably  only  when  an  architect  or  uphol- 
sterer, with  an  opportunity  to  rely  upon  more  worthy 
methods,  tries  to  produce  similar  results  not  as  means  but 
as  ends.  Illustrative  representation  in  poetry  is  often  pro- 
duced by  bringing  together  all  sorts  of  elements,  very 
much  as  the  Japanese  fans  are  brought  together  in  sea- 
side cottages  ;  and  it  is  justifiable  when  it  is  necessary  to 
make  thought  attractive  which  otherwise  would  not  be  so. 
To  illustrate  how  poetry  can  make  this  sort  of  thought 
attractive,  take  this  description  of  a  luncheon  in  Tenny- 

1  Elegiac  stanzas  suggested  by  a  picture  of  Peele  Castle  :  \V  oodsworth. 


GENESIS  OF  ALLOYED  REPRESENTATION.         269 

son's  Audley  Court.  In  most  of  the  passage  we  have 
direct  representation  ;  but  all  the  better  for  this  reason,  it 
serves  to  illustrate  what  I  mean  by  saying  that  form  can 
make  the  unpoetic  seem  poetic.  What  could  be  more  un- 
poetic  or  commonplace  than  a  meal  ?  Yet  notice  how 
by  the  introduction  of  picturesque  elements  like  "  wrought 
with  horse  and  hound,"  "  dusky,"  "  costly  made,"  "  Like 
fossils  of  the  rock,"  "  golden  "  "  Imbedded,"  and  the  v 
graphic  accounts-tire  conversation, — all  such  as  could  be 
observed  by  one  looking  on,  the  poet  has  rendered  the 
whole  poetic.  It  is  an  admirable  illustration  of  a  legiti- 
mate way  in  which  by  richness  of  form  a  poet  can  make 
up  for  poverty  of  ideas. 

There,  on  a  slope  of  orchard,  Francis  laid 
A  damask  napkin  wrought  with  horse  and  hound, 
Brought  out  a  dusky  loaf  that  smelt  of  home, 
And,  half-cut  down,  a  pasty  costly-made, 
Where  quail  and  pigeon,  lark  and  leveret  lay, 
Like  fossils  of  the  rock,  with  golden  yolks 
Imbedded  and  injellied  ;  last,  with  these, 
A  flask  of  cider  from  his  father's  vats, 
Prime,  which  I  knew  ;  and  so  we  sat  and  ate, 
And  talked  old  matters  over  ;  who  was  dead, 
Who  married,  who  was  like  to  be,  and  how 
The  races  went,  and  who  would  rent  the  hall ; 
Then  touched  upon  the  game,  how  scarce  it  was 
This  season  ;  glancing  thence,  discussed  the  farm, 
The  fourfold  system  and  the  price  of  grain  ; 
And  struck  upon  the  corn-laws,  where  we  split, 
And  came  again  together  on  the  king 
With  heated  faces,  till  he  laughed  aloud  ; 
And,  while  the  blackbird  on  the  pippin  hung 
To  hear  him,  clapt  his  hand  in  mine  and  sang. 

— Audley  Court:   Tennyson. 

There  is  much  more  poetry  in  a  sunset  than  in  a  lunch- 
eon.    Yet  both  are  ordinary  occurrences ;    and  few  can 


2/0  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

fail  to  recognize  that  it  is  the  use  of  illustrative  represen- 
tation in  the  following  that  has  enabled  Wordsworth  to 
lift  this  particular  sunset  entirely  above  any  thing  at  all 
ordinary. 

A  single  step,  that  freed  me  from  the  skirts, 
Of  the  blind  vapor,  opened  to  my  view 
Glory  beyond  all  glory  ever  seen 
By  waking  sense  or  by  the  dreaming  soul  ! 
The  appearance,  instantaneously  disclosed, 
Was  of  a  mighty  city, — boldly  say 
A  wilderness  of  building,  sinking  far 
And  self-withdrawn  into  a  boundless  depth, 
Far  sinking  into  splendor, — without  end  ! 
Fabric  it  seemed  of  diamond  and  of  gold, 
With  alabaster  domes,  and  silver  spires, 
And  blazing  terrace  upon  terrace,  high 
Uplifted  ;  here,  serene  pavilions  bright, 
In  avenues  disposed  ;  there,  towers  begirt 
With  battlements  that  on  their  restless  fronts 
Bore  stars, — illumination  of  all  gems  ! 

******* 

0  't  was  an  unimaginable  sight  ! 

Clouds,  mists,  streams,  watery  rocks,  and  emerald  turf. 
Clouds  of  all  tincture,  rocks  and  sapphire  sky, 
Confused,  commingled,  mutually  inflamed, 
Molten  together  and  composing  thus, 
Each  lost  in  each,  that  marvellous  array 
Of  temple,  palace,  citadel,  and  huge 
Fantastic  pomp  of  structure  without  name, 
In  fleecy  fold  voluminous  enwrapped. 

******* 

This  little  Vale  a  dwelling-place  of  Man 
Lay  low  beneath  my  feet ;  't  was  visible, — 

1  saw  not,  but  I  felt  that  it  was  there. 
That  which  I  saw  was  the  revealed  abode 
Of  Spirits  in  beatitude. 

— Excursion,  2  :    Wordsworth. 

These  quotations,  though  themselves  containing  noth- 
ing objectionable,  will  render  it  easy  for  us  to  understand 


GENESIS  OF  ALLOYED  REPRESENTATION.        2? I 

how  naturally  this  tendency  to  crowd  outside  elements 
into  the  form  passes  into  alloyed  representation.  In 
Longfellow's  Evangeline,  and  Tennyson's  Enoch  Arden 
we  have  told  us  stories  respectively  of  a  peasant  and 
a  sailor.  There  is  much  in  the  surroundings,  appearances, 
actions,  thoughts,  and  feelings  of  people  of  these  classes 
which  is  unpoetic,  uninteresting,  sometimes  even  repelling 
to  persons  sufficiently  cultivated  and  refined  to  enjoy  poe- 
try of  the  highest  order.  At  the  same  time  there  are  genu- 
inely poetic  elements  in  almost  every  thing  that  has  to  do 
with  human  life.  By  making  a  great  deal  of  these  ele- 
ments, and  very  little  or  nothing  at  all  of  others,  the  poet, 
in  a  legitimate  way,  can  cause  that  to  seem  attractive 
which  otherwise  might  not  seem  so.  Longfellow  does 
this  in  the  following  passage  from  Evangeline. 

Cheerily  neighed  the  steeds,  with  dew  on  their  manes  and  their  fetlocks, 

While  aloft  on  their  shoulders  the  wooden  and  ponderous  saddles 

Painted  with  brilliant  dyes,  and  adorned  with  tassels  of  crimson, 

Nodded  in  bright  array,  like  holyhocks  heavy  with  blossoms. 

Patiently  stood  the  cows  meanwhile,  and  yielded  their  udders 

Unto  the  milkmaid's  hand  ;  whilst  loud  and  in  regular  cadence 

Into  the  sounding  pails  the  foaming  streamlets  descended. 

Lowing  of  cattle  and  peals  of  laughter  were  heard  in  the  farm-yard. 

Echoed  back  by  the  barns.     Anon,  they  sank  into  stillness  ; 

Heavily  closed,  with  a  jarring  sound,  the  valves  of  the  barn-doors, 

Rattled  the  wooden  bars,  and  all  for  a  season  was  silent. 

But  closely  connected  with  this  rendering  attractive  of 
certain  forms  of  life,  through  bringing  some  of  its  ele- 
ments to  the  front  and  keeping  others  in  the  background, 
is  an  endeavor  to  do  the  same,  through  introducing  into 
the  description  elements  that  could  not  possibly  be  sup- 
posed to  be  there.  For  instance,  immediately  following 
the  passage  from  Evangeline  just  given,  is  one  describing 
her  father,  and  his  thoughts  as  he  sits  by  his  fireside. 


2/2  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Indoors,  warm  by  the  wide-mouthed  fireplace,  idly  the  farmer 

Sat  in  his  elbow-chair,  and  watched  how  the  flames  and  the  smoke-wreathes 

Struggled  together  like  foes  in  a  burning  city.     Behind  him 

Nodding  and  mocking  along  the  wall,  with  gestures  fantastic, 

Darted  his  own  huge  shadow,  aud  vanished  away  into  darkness. 

Faces,  clumsily  carved  in  oak,  on  the  back  of  his  arm-chair, 

Laughed  in  the  flickering  light,  and  the  pewter  plates  on  the  dresser 

Caught  and  reflected  the  flame,  as  shields  of  armies  the  sunshine. 

— Evangeline  :  Longfellow. 

The  question  connected  with  our  line  of  thought,  sug- 
gested by  this  passage,  is  this :  Would  this  peasant,  brought 
up  as  he  had  been,  and  with  his  surroundings,  be  likely  to 
think  of  "  foes  in  a  burning  city,"  "  gestures  fantastic," 
"  shields  of  armies,"  etc.  ?  If  not,  then  the  representa- 
tion is  not  pure.  The  passage  indicates  only  an  exceed- 
ingly slight  tendency  in  the  direction  of  alloyed  repre- 
sentation ;  but  the  very  slightness  of  the  tendency  will 
enable  us  to  trace  it  in  its  further  development.  Here  is 
a  passage  from  Tennyson's  Enoch  Arden  : 

The  mountain  wooded  to  the  peak,  the  lawns 
And  winding  glades  high  up  like  ways  to  heaven, 
The  slender  coco's  drooping  crown  of  plumes, 
The  lightning  flash  of  insect  and  of  bird, 
The  lustre  of  the  long  convolvuluses 
That  coil'd  around  the  stately  stems,  and  ran 
E'en  to  the  limit  of  the  land,  the  glows 
And  glories  of  the  broad  belt  of  the  world, — 
All  these  he  saw  ;  but  what  he  fain  had  seen 
He  could  not  see,  the  kindly  human  face, 
Nor  ever  hear  a  kindly  voice,  but  heard 
The  myriad  shriek  of  wheeling  ocean-fowl, 
The  league-long  roller  thundering  on  the  reef, 
The  moving  whisper  of  huge  trees  that  branched 
And  blossomed  in  the  zenith,  or  the  sweep 
Of  some  precipitous  rivulet  to  the  wave, 
As  down  the  shore  he  ranged,  or  all  day  long 
Sat  often  in  the  seaward  gazing  gorge 


GENESIS  OF  ALLOYED  REPRESENTATION.         2?$ 

A  shipwrecked  sailor,  waiting  for  a  sail : 
No  sail  from  day  to  day,  but  every  day 
The  sunrise  broken  into  scarlet  shafts 
Among  the  palms  and  ferns  and  precipices. 

Walter  Bagehot,  who  quotes  this  passage  in  his  "  Lit- 
erary Studies,"  as  an  illustration  of  what  he  terms  ornate 
poetry,  says  of  this  sailor  :  "  The  beauties  of  nature  would 
not  have  so  much  occupied  him.  He  would  have  known 
little  of  the  scarlet  shafts  of  sunrise  and  nothing  of  the 
long  convolvuluses.  As  in  '  Robinson  Crusoe/  his  own 
petty  contrivances  and  his  small  ailments  would  have  been 
the  principal  subjects  to  him."  Such  criticism  may  appear 
to  some  a  little  hypercritical.  An  extremely  poetical 
sailor  is  certainly  conceivable.  Even  if  one  could  not 
possibly  have  had  the  thoughts  here  indicated,  or  at  least 
not  such  thoughts  exclusively,  or  to  the  extent  represented 
by  Tennyson,  we  feel  that  if  any  thing  could  justify  a 
poet  in  misrepresenting  the  facts,  it  would  be  a  desire  to 
show  a  common  ground  of  sympathy  between  readers  of 
poetry  and  such  a  character,  even  at  the  expense  of  attrib- 
uting to  the  latter  thoughts  and  feelings  of  a  more  refined 
nature  than  he  really  would  have  experienced.  But  to 
see  what  the  tendency  here  exemplified  can  do,  when, 
without  any  motive  to  justify  it,  it  is  carried  slightly  fur- 
ther, notice,  in  the  following,  how  the  extravagance  of  the 
language,  carried  to  the  extreme  of  sentimentality,  ruins 
the  representation,  because  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  of 
its  being  true  to  life.  The  fundamental  fault  of  the  pas- 
sage lies  in  the  fact  that  the  subject  requires  no  such 
excess  of  illustration.  A  direct  account  of  what  two 
young  people  falling  in  love  at  first  sight  would  actually 
do  and  say  in  the  circumstances,  would  have  been  far 
more  effective.  Not  recognizing  this,  the  poet, — an  inex- 


274  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

perienced  writer,  who  most  likely  would  have  developed 
great  excellence  had  he  lived, — has  put  into  the  mouths 
of  the  two  language  possible  only  to  a  blas6  society  beau 
and  belle  making  love  in  play.  According  to  the  poem, 
a  lady  approaching  discovers  a  slumbering  poet  and  ex- 
claims : 

Ha  !  what  is  this  ?    A  bright  and  wandered  youth, 
Thick  in  the  light  of  his  own  beauty,  sleeps 
Like  young  Apollo,  in  his  golden  curls  ! 
At  the  oak-roots  I  've  seen  full  many  a  flower, 
But  never  one  so  fair.     A  lovely  youth 
With  dainty  cheeks  and  ringlets  like  a  girl, 
And  slumber-parted  lips  't  were  sweet  to  kiss  ! 
Ye  envious  lids  !     .     .     . 

So,  here  's  a  well-worn  book 
From  which  he  drinks  such  joy  as  doth  a  pale 
And  dim-eyed  worker,  who  escapes,  in  Spring, 
The  thousand-streeted  and  smoke-smothered  town, 
And  treads  awhile  the  breezy  hills  of  health. 

[Lady  opens  the  book,  a  slip  of  paper  falls  out,  she  reads.] 

****** 

Oh,  't  is  a  sleeping  poet !  and  his  verse 
Sings  like  the  Siren-isles     .     .     . 
Hist  !  he  awakes     .     .     . 

WALTER  (awakening). 

Fair  lady,  in  my  dream 
Methought  I  was  a  weak  and  lonely  bird, 
In  search  of  summer,  wandered  on  the  sea, 
Toiling  through  mists,  drenched  by  the  arrowy  rain, 
Struck  by  the  heartless  winds  ;  at  last,  methought 
I  came  upon  an  isle  in  whose  sweet  air 
I  dried  my  feathers,  smoothed  my  ruffled  breast, 
And  skimmed  delight  from  off  the  waving  woods. 
Thy  coming,  lady,  reads  this  dream  of  mine  : 
I  am  the  swallow,  thou  the  summer  land. 

LADY. 

Sweet,  sweet  is  flattery  to  mortal  ears, 
And,  if  I  drink  thy  praise  too  greedily, 


GENESIS  OF  ALLOYED  REPRESENTATION.         275 

My  fault  I  '11  match  with  grosser  instances. 
Do  not  the  royal  souls  that  van  the  world 
Hunger  for  praises  ?     Does  not  the  hero  burn 
To  blow  his  triumphs  in  the  trumpet's  mouth  ? 
And  do  not  poets'  brows  throb  feverous 
Till  they  are  cooled  with  laurels  ?    Therefore,  sir, 
If  such  dote  more  on  praise  than  all  the  wealth 
Of  precious-wombed  earth  and  pearled-mains, 
Blame  not  the  cheeks  of  simple  maidenhood. 

— Life  Drama,  2  :  AUx.  Smith. 

No  wonder  that  this  tough  specimen  of  "simple 
maidenhood  "  should  have  prayed  so  fervently  not  to  be 
blamed — putting  her  word  into  the  plural  also — for  her 
cheek  in  using  such  language  to  the  poet  before  an  intro- 
duction to  him,  and  in  prefacing  it  too  with  a  peep  at  his 
manuscript. 

There  is  an  intimate  connection  between  representation 
rendered  inappropriate  by  the  general  character  of  the 
thought,  and  that  rendered  so  by  the  smallness  of  the 
thought.  In  the  following  the  same  poet  tells  us  of  a 
youth  who  heard  a  woman  singing.  He  had  never  seen 
her ;  but 

When  she  ceased 

The  charmed  woods  and  breezes  silent  stood, 
As  if  all  ear  to  catch  her  voice  again. 
Uprose  the  dreamer  from  his  couch  of  flowers, 
With  awful  expectation  in  his  look, 
And  happy  tears  upon  his  pallid  face, 
With  eager  steps,  as  if  toward  a  heaven, 
He  onward  went,  and,  lo  !  he  saw  her  stand, 
Fairer  than  Dian,  in  the  forest  glade. 
His  footsteps  startled  her,  and  quick  she  turned 
Her  face, — looks  met  like  swords.     He  clasped  his  hands, 
And  fell  upon  his  knees  ;  the  while  there  broke 
A  sudden  splendor  o'er  his  yearning  face  ; 
'T  was  a  pale  prayer  in  its  very  self. 


276  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Thus  like  a  worshipper  before  a  shrine, 

He  earnest  syllabled,  and,  rising  up, 

He  led  that  lovely  stranger  tenderly 

Through  the  green  forest  toward  the  burning  west. 

— Idem,  3. 

In  our  next  quotation  the  same  tendency  has  passed 
beyond  the  stage  of  sentimentality  into  that  of  obscurity. 
The  thought  in  it  is  so  small  for  the  kind  of  representa- 
tion given  it,  as  to  be  at  times  altogether  invisible.  It  is 
intended  to  describe  hot  weather  and  a  shower ;  and  is  a 
singular  exemplification  of  the  way  in  which  extremes  meet ; 
for  while  the  poet  evidently  supposes  himself  to  be  illustra- 
ting his  subject,  he  is  really  trying  to  explain  it.  His  en- 
deavor to  exercise  his  imaginative  tendency  has  led  him 
to  argue ;  and  while  he  thinks  himself  influenced  by  a 
poetic  motive,  it  is  really  prosaic.  Thus  his  style  is  a  fail- 
ure in  two  regards :  it  is  both  too  figurative  and  too  philo- 
sophical. 

Should  Solstice,  stalking  through  the  sickening  bowers, 
Suck  the  warm  dew-drops,  lap  the  falling  showers  ; 
Kneel  with  parched  lip,  and  bending  from  its  brink, 
From  dripping  palm  the  scanty  river  drink  ; 
Nymphs  !  o'er  the  soil  ten  thousand  points  erect, 
And  high  in  air  the  electric  flame  collect. 
Soon  shall  dark  mists  with  self-attraction  shroud 
The  blazing  day,  and  sail  in  wilds  of  cloud  ; 
Each  silvery  flower  the  streams  aerial  quaff, 
Bow  her  sweet  head,  and  infant  harvests  laugh. 

—  The  Botanic  Garden,  Part  First  :  E.  Darwin. 

By  comparing  any  of  the  clean-cut,  clear  descriptions  of 
Homer  with  this  passage,  in  which,  on  account  of  the  far- 
fetched illustrative  nature  of  the  form,  it  needs  often  a 
second  thought  to  detect  what  the  poet  is  talking  about, 
one  will  have  a  sufficiently  forcible  exemplification  of  the 
difference  between  poetic  form  that  is  representative,  and 


GENESIS  OF  ALLOYED  REPRESENTATION.        2JJ 

that  which,  on  account  of  the  addition  to  it  of  elements 
having  to  do  merely  with  the  illustrative  methods  of  pre- 
senting the  thought,  is  not  representative. 

The  fault  now  under  consideration  characterizes,  as  will 
be  noticed,  all  poems  in  which  the  subject  does  not 
justify  the  treatment, — from  those  like  Spenser's  Faerie 
Queene,  (in  which  the  allegory  meant  to  illustrate  the 
thought,  and  therefore  an  element  merely  of  the  form,  is 
made  to  appear  the  principal  thing,  because  developed  to 
such  an  extent  that  one  forgets  all  about  what  the  subject 
of  the  poem  is,)  down  to  sensational  plays,  and  romances 
of  the  lowest  order,  in  which  the  characters,  for  serious, 
not  comic  purposes,  are  placed  in  situations  and  made  to 
utter  sentiments  inconceivable  in  their  circumstances. 
There  is  no  necessity  for  quoting  from  such  works  here. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

EXPLANATORY  ALLOY   IN  DIRECT   REPRESENTATION. 

Alloy,  if  carrying  to  Extreme  the  Tendency  in  Plain  Language,  becomes 
Didactic  ;  if  the  Tendency  in  Figurative  Language,  it  becomes  Ornate 
— Didactic  Alloy  explains,  and  appeals  to  the  Elaborative  Faculty,  not 
the  Imagination — Rhetoric  instead  of  Poetry — Examples  of  Didactic 
Alloy  where  Representation  purports  to  be  Direct — In  Cases  where  the 
Thought  is  Philosophical — How  Thought  of  the  same  Kind  can  be  Ex- 
pressed Poetically — In  Cases  where  the  Thought  is  Picturesque,  as  in 
Descriptions  of  Natural  Scenery — How  similar  Scenes  can  be  described 
Poetically — Didactic  Descriptions  of  Persons — Similar  Representative 
Descriptions — How  Illustrative  Representation  helps  the  Appeal  to  the 
Imagination — In  Descriptions  of  Natural  Scenery — Of  Persons — The 
Sensuous  and  the  Sensual. 

HPHE  reader  who  has  followed  our  line  of  thought  to 
this  point,  probably  understands  by  this  time  the 
general  nature  of  the  difference  between  pure  and  alloyed 
representation.  But  he  cannot  understand  the  extent  of 
the  inartistic  influence  which  the  latter  introduces  into 
poetry  as  a  representative  art,  until  he  has  traced  its  de- 
velopments a  little  further.  That  will  be  done  for  him  in 
this  and  following  chapters. 

It  has  been  said  that  whatever  is  added  to  representa- 
tion of  such  a  nature  as  to  change  it  from  pure  to  alloyed, 
must  come  from  the  poet.  This  is  true,  and  yet  he  may 
not  always  be  himself  the  primary  source  of  these  addi- 
tions. He  may  get  them  either  from  his  own  mind  or 
from  nature, — a  term  used  here  to  apply  to  every  thing  ex- 


THE  DIDACTIC.  2?$ 

ternal  to  himself.  If  he  get  them  from  his  own  mind,  he 
will  carry  into  excessive  development  the  tendency  which 
has  been  termed  the  instinctive,  underlying  ejaculatory 
sounds  and  all  plain  language ;  and  his  product  will  man- 
ifest a  preponderance  of  the  features  making  up  the 
thought  that  he  desires  to  express.  If  he  get  his  additions 
from  nature,  he  will  carry  into  excessive  development  the 
tendency,  which  has  been  termed  the  reflective,  underlying 
imitative  sounds  and  all  figurative  language ;  and  his 
product  will  manifest  a  preponderance  of  the  features  em- 
ployed in  the  form  for  the  purpose  of  amplifying  and 
illustrating  his  thought.  The  first  tendency,  carried  to  an 
extreme,  will  deprive  the  form  of  representation,  and 
make  it  explanatory  or  didactic ;  the  second  will  overload 
it  with  representation,  and  make  it  florid  or  ornate. 

Taking  up  these  tendencies  in  their  order,  we  will  ex- 
amine now  the  former  of  them,  and  first,  as  exemplified 
in  poetry  modelled  upon  direct  representation.  In  this 
form,  as  we  have  seen,  the  poet  uses  no  similies  nor 
metaphors.  He  states  precisely  what  he  wishes  to  say — 
only  what  he  says,  if  put  in  the  form  of  poetry,  must 
represent  his  thought.  If  it  merely  present  this,  he  gives 
us  a  product  not  of  the  ideal  art  of  poetry,  but  of  the 
practical  art  of  rhetoric.  This  latter  appeals  to  the  mind 
through  what  Sir  William  Hamilton  termed  the  elabora- 
tive  faculty,  and  is  characterized  by  a  particularizing  of 
details  in  explanatory  words  and  clauses,  termed  amplifi- 
cation,— all  of  which  details  together  enable  the  hearer  to 
weigh  the  evidence  that  is  offered,  and  to  draw  from  it 
trustworthy  conclusions.  Poetry,  on  the  contrary,  appeals 
to  the  representative  faculty,  and  is  characterized  by  an 
absence  of  any  more  details  or  explanatory  elements  than 
are  needed  in  order  to  form  a  picture,  and  this  for  the 


28O  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

reason  that  nothing  appeals  so  strongly  to  the  imagination 
as  a  hint.  At  the  same  time,  as  poetry  and  rhetoric  both 
communicate  ideas,  there  is  a  constant  tendency  for  the 
one  to  pass  into  the  other,  for  the  poet  to  forget  that 
the  poetical  depends  not  upon  ideas  alone,  but  also  upon 
the  forms  given  to  the  ideas, — in  fact,  to  forget  that, 
while  great  poetry  must  necessarily  embody  great  thoughts, 
very  genuine  poetry,  at  times,  may  do  no  more  than  give 
to  the  merest  "  airy  nothings  a  local  habitation  and  a 
name." 

To  exemplify  what  has  been  said,  let  us  begin  with 
some  quotations  from  Wordsworth.  They  are  specimens 
of  rhetoric,  pure  and  simple,  presenting,  but  not  in  any 
sense  representing,  the  thought.  By  consequence,  they  are 
almost  wholly  lacking  in  the  suggestive  and  inspiring 
effects  with  which  true  poetry  appeals  to  the  imagination : 

O  for  the  coining  of  that  glorious  time 

When,  prizing  knowledge  as  her  noblest  wealth 

And  best  protection,  this  imperial  Realm, 

While  she  exacts  allegiance,  shall  admit 

An  obligation,  on  her  part,  to  teach 

Them  who  are  born  to  serve  her  and  obey  ; 

Binding  herself  by  statute  to  secure 

For  all  the  children  whom  her  soil  maintains 

The  rudiments  of  letters,  and  inform 

The  mind  with  moral  and  religious  truth, 

Both  understood  and  practised, — so  that  none, 

However  destitute,  be  left  to  droop, 

By  timely  culture  unsustained. 

******* 
The  discipline  of  slavery  is  unknown 
Among  us, — hence  the  more  do  we  require 
The  discipline  of  virtue  ;  order  else 
Cannot  subsist,  nor  confidence,  nor  peace. 
Thus,  duties  rising  out  of  good  possessed, 
And  prudent  caution  needful  to  avert 
Impending  evil,  equally  require 


THE  DIDACTIC.  28 1 

That  the  whole  people  should  be  taught  and  trained. 
So  shall  licentiousness  and  black  resolve 
Be  rooted  out,  and  virtuous  habits  take 
Their  place  ;  and  genuine  piety  descend 
Like  an  inheritance  from  age  to  age. 

****** 
Vast  the  circumference  of  hope, — and  ye 
Are  at  its  centre,  British  Lawgivers  ; 
.     .     .     Your  country  must  complete 
Her  glorious  destiny.     Begin  even  now, 

****** 
Now  when  destruction  is  a  prime  pursuit 
Show  to  the  wretched  nations  for  what  end 
The  powers  of  civil  polity  were  given. 

— Excursion,  9. 

Some  may  suppose  that  the  thought  presented  in  these 
passages  is  not  fitted  for  representation,  and  be  inclined 
to  justify  the  poet's  treatment  of  it  on  this  ground.  The 
truth  is,  however,  that  there  is  very  little  thought  that 
cannot  be  expressed  in  a  representative  way.  As  a  proof 
of  this,  look  at  the  following  passages  from  Tennyson's 
Princess.  They  contain  thoughts  of  essentially  the  same 
character  as  those  from  the  Excursion  ;  yet  their  forms, 
if  not  always  those  of  direct  representation,  are,  at  least, 
those  of  representation  of  some  sort,  which  is  the  im- 
portant matter,  just  now,  for  us  to  consider. 

O  lift  your  natures  up, 

Embrace  our  aims  ;  work  out  your  freedom  !     .     .     • 
Knowledge  is  now  no  more  a  fountain  sealed  : 
Drink  deep,  until  the  habits  of  the  slave, 
The  sins  of  emptiness,  gossip,  and  spite, 
And  slander  die.     Better  not  be  at  all 
Than  not  be  noble. 

****** 
Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was  light :  't  is  so  : 
For  was,  and  is,  and  will  be,  are  but  is  ; 
And  all  creation  is  one  act  at  once, 
The  birth  of  light ;  but  we  that  are  not  all, 


282  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

As  parts,  can  see  but  parts,  now  this,  now  that, 

And  live,  perforce,  from  thought  to  thought,  and  make 

One  act  a  phantom  of  succession  :  thus 

Our  weakness  somewhat  shapes  the  shadow,  Time  ; 

But  in  the  shadow  will  we  work. 

******* 
But  trim  our  sails  and  let  old  by-gones  be, 
While  down  the  stream  that  floats  us  each  and  all 
To  the  issue,  goes,  like  glittering  bergs  of  ice, 
Throne  after  throne,  and  molten  on  the  waste 
Becomes  a  cloud  ;  for  all  things  serve  their  time 
Toward  that  great  year  of  equal  mights  and  rights. 

******* 
And  knowledge  in  our  own  land  make  her  free, 
And  ever  following  those  two  crowned  twins, 
Commerce  and  conquest,  shower  the  fiery  grain 
Of  Freedom  broadcast  over  all  that  orbs 
Between  the  Northern  and  the  Southern  morn. 

— Princess  :    Tennyson. 

In  the  following,  also,  a  very  similar  line  of  thought  is 
not  merely  presented  or  stated,  but  represented  or  pic- 
tured : 

For  I  dipped  into  the  future,  far  as  human  eye  could  see, 

Saw  the  Vision  of  the  world,  and  all  the  wonder  that  would  be  ; 

Saw  the  heavens  fill  with  commerce,  argosies  of  magic  sails, 
Pilots  of  the  purple  twilight,  dropping  down  with  costly  bales  ; 

Heard  the  heavens  fill  with  shouting,  and  there  rained  a  ghastly  dew 
From  the  nations'  airy  navies  grappling  in  the  central  blue  ; 

Far  along  the  world-wide  whisper  of  the  South  wind  rushing  warm 
With  the  standards  of  the  peoples  plunging  through  the  thunder-storm  ; 

Till  the  war-drum  throbbed  no  longer,  and  the  battle-flags  were  furled 
In  the  Parliament  of  man,  the  Federation  of  the  world  ; 

There  the  common-sense  of  most  shall  hold  a  fretful  realm  in  awe, 
And  the  kindly  earth  shall  slumber,  lapt  in  universal  law. 

— Locksley  Hall :   Tennyson. 


THE  DIDACTIC  IN  DIRECT  REPRESENTATION.   283 

The  following,  too,  though  it  contains  representation 
that  is  both  illustrative  and  alloyed,  will  serve  to  show  how 
the  kind  of  thought  expressed  in  the  passage  from  the 
Excursion  may  be  treated  representatively. 

We  sleep  and  wake  and  sleep,  but  all  things  move  J 
The  Sun  flies  forward  to  his  brother  Sun  ; 
The  dark  Earth  follows,  wheeled  in  her  ellipse  ; 
And  human  things  returning  on  themselves, 
Move  onward,  leading  up  the  golden  year. 

Ah  !  though  the  times  when  some  new  thought  can  bud 
Are  but  as  poets'  seasons  when  they  flower, 
Yet  seas  that  daily  gain  upon  the  shore 
Have  ebb  and  flow,  conditioning  their  march, 
And  slow  and  sure  comes  up  the  golden  year. 

When  wealth  no  more  shall  rest  in  moulded  heaps, 

But  smit  with  freer  light  shall  slowly  melt 

In  many  streams  to  fatten  lower  lands, 

And  light  shall  spread,  and  man  be  liker  man 

Through  all  the  seasons  of  the  golden  year. 

******  * 

Fly  happy,  happy  sails,  and  bear  the  Press  ; 
Fly  happy  with  the  mission  of  the  Cross  ; 
Knit  land  to  land,  and  blowing  havenward, 
With  silks,  and  fruits,  and  spices,  clear  of  toll, 
Enrich  the  markets  of  the  golden  year. 

But  we  grow  old.     Ah  !  when  shall  all  men's  good 
Be  each  man's  rule,  and  universal  Peace 
Lie  like  a  shaft  of  light  across  the  land, 
And  like  a  lane  of  beams  athwart  the  sea, 
Through  all  the  circle  of  the  golden  year  ? 

—  The  Golden  Year  :  Tennyson. 

As  the  principle  under  consideration  is  important,  the 
reader  will  excuse  one  further  quotation  exemplifying 
better  perhaps  than  any  of  those  already  considered  the 
way  in  which  ideas  of  this  kind  may  be  expressed  very 
clearly  and  forcibly,  and  yet  representatively.  In  the  fol- 


284  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

lowing,  the  poet  has  to  say  that  he  is  tired  of  the  buzz  and 
bustle  of  the  world,  and  wishes  to  live  in  retirement. 
This  is  the  prose  of  his  statement.  Notice  now  how  he 
represents  this  thought,  and  in  doing  so  turns  it  into  poe- 
try. Most  of  the  representation  here,  too,  is  direct  and 
pure. 

Let  us  swear  an  oath,  and  keep  it  with  an  equal  mind, 
In  the  hollow  Lotus-land  to  live,  and  lie  reclined 
On  the  hills  like  Gods  together,  careless  of  mankind. 
For  they  lie  beside  their  nectar,  and  the  bolts  are  hurled 
Far  below  them  in  the  valleys,  and  the  clouds  are  lightly  curled 
Round  their  golden  houses,  girdled  with  a  gleaming  world  ; 
Where  they  smile  in  secret,  looking  over  wasted  lands, 
Blight  and  famine,  plague  and  earthquake,  roaring  deeps  and  fiery  sands, 
Clanging  fights,  and  naming  towns,  and  sinking  ships,  and  praying  hands. 

—  The  Lotus  Eaters  :   Tennyson. 

Could  there  be  a  more  significant  picture  of  the 
trouble  of  this  life,  or  a  more  fitting  climax  for  it  than  the 
helplessness  of  these  "  praying  hands  "  ?  Poetry  does  not 
reveal  truth  to  us  in  logic,  but  in  light. 

It  is  not  only,  however,  in  the  expression  of  thought 
in  itself  unpicturesque,  that  the  poet  is  in  danger  of 
giving  us  rhetoric  instead  of  poetry.  Even  in  descrip- 
tions of  objects  and  persons  in  which,  at  first,  it  might  be 
supposed  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  do  any  thing 
except  represent,  the  same  tendency  is  manifest.  In  the 
following  from  Southey's  Madoc  in  Wales,  the  descrip- 
tions scarcely  include  one  feature  that  might  not  be  true 
of  any  one  of  a  score  of  rivers  or  mountains.  Therefore 
the  lines  are  almost  wholly  lacking  in  the  specificness 
noticed  in  Chapter  XXII.  as  characterizing  the  descriptions 
of  Homer.  This  fact  alone  might  be  enough  to  condemn 
them.  But  their  lack  of  this  trait  is  not  the  chief 
reason  why  they  are  mentioned  here  ;  but  because,  owing 


THE  DIDACTIC  IN  DIRECT  REPRESENTATION.   285 

to  the  lack  of  it,  they  read  like  something  written  in  a 
man's  study,  not  out  of  doors  where  he  had  a  view  of  the 
objects  delineated.  In  other  words,  they  read  like  some- 
thing taken  out  of  his  own  brain.  For  this  reason  they 
furnish  good  examples  of  direct  representation  in  which 
too  much  attention  relatively  is  given  to  the  thoughts 
that  come  from  the  author  as  contrasted  with  that  which 
comes  from  nature. 

The  land  bent  westward  soon, 
And,  thus  confirmed,  we  voyaged  on  to  seek 
The  river  inlet,  following  at  the  will 
Of  our  new  friend  ;  and  we  learnt  after  him, 
Well  pleased  and  proud  to  teach  what  this  was  called, 
What  that,  with  no  unprofitable  pains. 

******* 

At  length  we  came 

Where  the  great  river,  amid  shoals,  and  banks, 
And  islands,  growth  of  its  own  gathering  spoils, 
Through  many  a  branching  channel,  wide  and  full, 
Rushed  to  the  main. 

— Madoc  in  Wales t  5  :  Southey. 

We  travelled  in  the  mountains  ;  then  a  plain 

Opened  below,  and  rose  upon  the  sight, 

Like  boundless  ocean  from  a  hill-top  seen. 

A  beautiful  and  populous  plain  it  was  ; 

Fair  woods  were  there,  and  fertilizing  streams, 

And  pastures  spreading  wide,  and  villages 

In  fruitful  groves  embowered,  and  stately  towns, 

And  many  a  single  dwelling  specking  it. 

As  though  for  many  years  the  land  had  been 

The  land  of  peace. 

— Idem,  6. 

As  contrasted  with  this,  notice  the  following.  In  read- 
ing it,  we  feel  that  it  definitely  represents  some  real  scene 
which  we  ourselves  at  once  imagine  that  we  see.  There- 
fore it  is  better  poetry  than  that  in  the  quotation  from 

Southey. 


286  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART, 

On  either  side 

Is  level  fen,  a  prospect  wild  and  wide, 
With  dikes  on  either  hand,  by  ocean's  self  supplied. 
Far  on  the  right,  the  distant  sea  is  seen, 
And  salt  the  springs  that  feed  the  marsh  between  ; 
Beneath  an  ancient  bridge  the  straightened  flood 
Rolls  through  its  sloping  banks  of  slimy  mud  ; 
Near  it  a  sunken  boat  resists  the  tide, 
That  frets  and  hurries  to  the  opposing  side  ; 
The  rushes  sharp  that  on  the  borders  grow, 
Bend  their  brown  flowerets  to  the  stream  below, 
Impure  in  all  its  course,  in  all  its  progress  slow. 

— Lover's  Journey  :  Crabbe. 

There  is  poetry,  however,  higher  in  its  quality  than  this, 
— poetry  in  which  we  not  only  feel  that  the  things  de- 
scribed actually  exist  or  existed,  but  that  the  man 
describing  them  saw  at  the  supposed  time  of  the  descrip- 
tion just  what  he  says  that  he  saw.  Crabbe's  description 
reads  a  little  as  if  the  narrator  had  gone  out  some  morn- 
ing and  taken  notes,  as  one  would  for  a  county  map,  and 
then  had  come  back  and  copied  off  what  he  gives  us. 
But  in  reading  the  following,  from  Tennyson's  Garden- 
er s  Daughter,  we  derive  no  such  impression.  In  fact,  a 
man  taking  notes  would  not  confine  himself  to  the  things 
here  mentioned.  It  is  only  natural  to  suppose,  there- 
fore, that  they  were  seen  by  the  narrator  just  as  they  are 
represented  in  the  picture.  In  another  place  may  be 
explained  what  is  meant  by  saying  that  this  description 
for  this  reason  gives  expression  to  a  poetic  motive.  At 
present,  it  is  sufficient  to  direct  attention  to  the  fact  that  we 
have  arrived  now,  through  a  different  course,  at  the  same 
conclusion  as  that  reached  while  examining  the  poetry  of 
Homer  in  Chapter  XXII.  The  representation  below  seems 
real  and  life-like,  because  only  a  few  things  are  mentioned, 
and  these  just  the  ones  that  would  impress  the  mind  of 


THE  DIDACTIC  IN  DIRECT  REPRESENTATION.   28? 


an  observer  amid  such  surroundings.  The  description  is 
not  indefinite  and  characterless,  like  that  of  Southey,  but 
specific  and  typical ;  it  is  not  complete  and  circumstan- 
tial, like  the  photographic  picture  of  Crabbe,  but  fragmen- 
tary and  suggestive — a  rapid  sketch  of  salient  outlines, 
which  the  imagination  is  left  to  fill  in  for  itself.  There  is 
some  illustrative  representation  in  it,  but  this  need  not 
injure  it  for  our  present  purpose. 

Not  wholly  in  the  busy  world,  nor  quite 
Beyond  it,  blooms  the  garden  that  I  love. 
News  from  the  humming  city  comes  to  it 
In  sound  of  funeral  or  of  marriage  bells  ; 
And,  sitting  muffled  in  dark  leaves,  you  hear 
The  windy  clanging  of  the  minster  clock  ; 
Although  between  it  and  the  garden  lies 
A  league  of  grass,  washed  by  a  slow,  broad  stream, 
That,  stirred  with  languid  pulses  of  the  oar, 
Waves  all  its  lazy  lilies,  and  creeps  on, 
Barge-laden,  to  three  arches  of  a  bridge 
Crowned  with  the  minster-towers. 

— Gardener  s  Daughter  '   Tennyson, 

It  will  be  well  to  close  this  phase  of  our  subject  with  an 
example  of  representation  that  is  not  only  pure,  but,  from 
beginning  to  end,  direct. 

So  saying,  by  the  hand  he  took  me,  raised, 
And  over  fields  and  waters,  as  in  air 
Smooth  sliding  without  step,  last  led  me  up 
A  woody  mountain  ;  whose  high  top  was  plain, 
A  circuit  wide,  enclosed,  with  goodliest  trees 
Planted,  with  walks  and  bowers,  that  what  I  saw 
Of  earth  before  scarce  pleasant  seem'd.     Each  tree 
Loaden  with  fairest  fruit,  that  hung  to  the  eye 
Tempting,  stirr'd  in  me  sudden  appetite 
To  pluck  and  eat  ;  whereat  I  wak'd,  and  found 
Before  mine  eyes  all  real,  as  the  dream 
Had  lively  shadow'd  ;  here  had  new  begun 
My  wandering,  had  not  he,  who  was  my  guide 


288  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Up  hither,  from  among  the  trees  appear'd, 

Presence  Divine.     Rejoicing,  but  with  awe, 

In  adoration  at  his  feet  I  fell, 

Submiss  :  He  rear'd  me,  and,  Whom  thou  sought'st  I  am, 

Said  mildly,  Author  of  all  this  thou  seest 

Above,  or  round  about  thee,  or  beneath. 

—Paradise  Lost,  8  :  Milton. 

Now  let  us  go  back  and  take  up  examples  in  which,  in 
descriptions  of  persons,  too  much  attention,  relatively,  is 
paid  to  the  thought  as  contrasted  with  the  form.  The 
following  is  a  passage  of  this  kind.  Through  a  series  of 
explanations,  it  appeals  directly  to  the  understanding, 
scarcely  at  all  to  the  imagination. 

I  admire 

Him  and  his  fortunes,  who  hath  wrought  thy  safety ; 
Yea  as  my  mind  predicts,  with  thine  his  own. 
Obscure  and  friendless  he  the  army  sought ; 
Bent  upon  peril  in  the  range  of  death. 
Resolved  to  hunt  for  fame  and  with  his  sword 
To  gain  distinction  which  his  birth  denied. 
In  this  attempt  unknown  he  might  have  perished, 
And  gained  with  all  his  valor  but  oblivion. 
Now  graced  by  thee  his  virtue  serves  no  more 
Beneath  despair.     The  soldier  now  of  hope, 
He  stands  conspicuous  :  fame  and  great  renown 
Are  brought  within  the  compass  of  his  sword. 

— Douglas,  2  :  Home. 

Here  is  another  passage  of  the  same  sort : 

Turn  up  thine  eyes  to  Cato  ! 
There  mayest  thou  see  to  what  a  godlike  height 
The  Roman  virtues  lift  up  mortal  man. 
While  good  and  just  and  anxious  for  his  friends 
He  's  still  severely  bent  against  himself  ; 
Renouncing  sleep,  and  rest,  and  food,  and  ease, 
He  strives  with  thirst  and  hunger,  toil  and  heat } 
And,  when  his  fortune  sets  before  him  all 
The  pomp  and  pleasures  that  his  soul  can  wish, 
His  rigid  virtues  will  accept  of  none. 

— Cato,  1,4:  Addison. 


POETIC  DESCRIPTIONS.  289 

Contrast  with  this  the  following  description  of  Ogier 
the  Dane  in  William  Morris'  Earthly  Paradise.  The 
representation  here  is  just  as  direct  as  in  the  foregoing, 
but,  in  a  sense  not  true  of  it,  each  sentence  presents  a 
picture. 

Great  things  he  suffered,  great  delights  he  had, 
Unto  great  kings  he  gave  good  deeds  for  bad  ; 
He  ruled  o'er  kingdoms,  where  his  name  no  more 
Is  had  in  memory,  and  on  many  a  shore 
He  left  his  sweat  and  blood,  to  win  a  name 
Passing  the  bounds  of  earthly  creature's  fame. 
A  love  he  won  and  lost,  a  well-loved  son 
Whose  little  day  of  promise  soon  was  done. 
A  tender  wife  he  had,  that  he  must  leave 
Before  his  heart  her  love  could  well  receive. 

— Ogier  the  Dane. 

Of  course  some  will  think  that  these  lines  are  not  far 
removed  from  the  level  of  prose.  But  they  could  not 
well  be  made  more  poetic  without  using  illustrative  repre- 
sentation, the  introduction  of  which  into  passages  of  this 
kind  is  much  the  best  way  of  making  them  appeal  to  the 
imagination.  To  recognize  this  fact  one  has  only  to  com- 
pare the  following  descriptions  of  natural  scenery  with 
those  given  a  few  moments  ago.  The  first  deviates  only 
slightly  from  the  methods  of  direct  representation. 

In  front 

The  sea  lay  laughing  at  a  distance  ;  near, 
The  solid  mountains  shone,  bright  as  the  clouds, 
Grain-tinctured,  drenched  in  empyrean  light ; 
And  in  the  meadows  and  the  lower  grounds 
Was  all  the  sweetness  of  a  common  dawn, — 
Dews,  vapors,  and  the  melody  of  birds, 
And  laborers  going  forth  to  till  the  fields. 

—  The  Prelude,  4  :    Wordsworth. 

In  the  second  the  figures  stand  out  more  clearly : 


290  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

At  my  feet 

Rested  a  silent  sea  of  hoary  mist. 
A  hundred  hills  their  dusky  backs  upheaved 
All  over  this  still  ocean  ;  and  beyond, 
Far,  far  beyond,  the  solid  vapors  stretched, 
In  headlands,  tongues,  and  promontory  shapes, 
Into  the  main  Atlantic,  that  appeared 
To  dwindle,  and  give  up  his  majesty, 
Usurped  upon  far  as  the  sight  could  reach. 

— Prelude,  14  :    Wordsworth. 

Now  look  at  the  effects  of  illustrative  representation 
upon  descriptions  of  persons,  as  in  this  : 

O  what  a  noble  mind  is  here  o'erthrown  ! 

The  courtier's,  scholar's,  soldier's  eye,  tongue,  sword  : 

The  expectancy  and  rose  of  the  fair  State, 

The  glass  of  fashion,  and  the  mould  of  form, 

The  observed  of  all  observers. 

— Hamlet \  iii.,  I  :  Shakespear. 

And  in  this : 

He  was  not  born  to  shame  : 
Upon  his  brow  shame  is  ashamed  to  sit  ; 
For  't  is  a  throne  where  honor  may  be  crowned 
Sole  monarch  of  the  universal  earth. 

— Romeo  and  Juliet,  iii.,  2  :  Idem. 

And  in  these  series  of  pictures  presented  to  the  imagi. 
nation  in  Sir  Richard  Vernon's  description  of  Prince 
Harry  and  his  troops : 

All  furnished,  all  in  arms  ; 
All  plumed  like  estridges  that  wing  the  wind  J 
Bated  like  eagles  having  lately  bathed  ; 
Glittering  in  golden  coats,  like  images  ; 
As  full  of  spirit  as  the  month  of  May, 
And  gorgeous  as  the  sun  at  midsummer  ; 
Wanton  as  youthful  goats,  wild  as  young  bulls. 
I  saw  young  Harry, — with  his  beaver  on, 
His  cuisses  on  his  thighs,  gallantly  armed,— 
Rise  from  the  ground  like  feathered  Mercury, 
And  vaulted  with  such  ease  into  his  seat, 


POETIC  DESCRIPTIONS. 

As  if  an  angel  dropped  down  from  the  clouds, 

To  turn  and  wind  a  fiery  Pegasus, 

And  witch  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship. 

— i  Henry  IV.t  iv.,  I  :  Shakespear. 

Notice,  too,  to  what  an  extent  the  element  of  beauty  is 
introduced  into  the  following,  through  the  use  of  illus- 
trative representation  : 

For  up  the  porch  there  grew  an  Eastern  rose 

That,  flowering  high,  the  last  night's  gale  had  caught, 

And  blown  across  the  walk.     One  arm  aloft — 

Gowned  in  pure  white,  that  fitted  to  the  shape — 

Holding  the  bush,  to  fix  it  back,  she  stood. 

A  single  stream  of  all  her  soft  brown  hair 

Poured  on  one  side  :  the  shadow  of  the  flowers 

Stole  all  the  golden  gloss,  and,  wavering 

Lovingly  lower,  trembled  on  her  waist — 

Ah,  happy  shade  ! — and  still  went  wavering  down, 

But  ere  it  touched  a  foot  that  might  have  danced 

The  green  sward  into  greener  circles,  dipt 

And  mixed  with  shadows  of  the  common  ground  ! 

But  the  full  day  dwelt  on  her  brows,  and  sunned 

Her  violet  eyes,  and  all  her  Hebe-bloom, 

And  doubled  his  own  warmth  against  her  lips, 

And  on  the  bounteous  wave  of  such  a  breast 

As  never  pencil  drew.     Half  light,  half  shade, 

She  stood,  a  sight  to  make  an  old  man  young. 

—  The  Gardener's  Daughter  :   Tennyson. 

Milton  says  that  poetry  must  be  simple,  sensuous,  and 
passionate.  The  above  certainly  meets  all  these  require- 
ments. Read  this  too  from  Shakespear's  Antony  and 
Cleopatra  : 

I  will  tell  you. 

The  barge  she  sat  in,  like  a  burnished  throne, 
Burned  on  the  water  :  the  poop  was  beaten  gold  ; 
Purple  the  sails,  and  so  perfumed,  that 
The  winds  were  love-sick  with  them  ;  the  oars  were  silver ; 
Which  to  the  tune  of  flutes  kept  stroke,  and  made 
The  water,  which  they  beat,  to  follow  faster, 


POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

As  amorous  of  their  strokes.     For  her  own  person, 

It  beggared  all  description  :  she  did  lie 

In  her  pavilion  (cloth  of  gold,  of  tissue) 

O'er-picturing  that  Venus  where  we  see 

The  fancy  out-work  nature  :  on  each  side  her 

Stood  pretty  dimpled  boys,  like  smiling  Cupids, 

With  divers  colored  fans,  whose  wind  did  seem 

To  glow  the  delicate  cheeks  which  they  did  cool, 

And  what  they  did,  undid.     .     .     . 

Her  gentlewomen,  like  the  Nereids, 

So  many  mermaids,  tended  her  i'  th'  eyes, 

And  made  their  bends  adoring  :  at  the  helm 

A  seeming  mermaid  steers  ;  the  silken  tackle 

Swell  with  the  touches  of  those  flower-soft  hands 

That  yarely  frame  the  office.     From  the  barge 

A  strange  invisible  perfume  hits  the  sense 

Of  the  adjacent  wharfs.     The  city  cast 

Her  people  out  upon  her  ;  and  Antony, 

Enthron'd  i*  th'  market-place,  did  sit  alone, 

Whistling  to  th'  air  ;  which,  but  for  vacancy, 

Had  gone  to  gaze  on  Cleopatra  too, 

And  made  a  gap  in  nature. 

— Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii.,  2  :  Shakespear. 

Perhaps  no  poetical  passage  could  exemplify  better 
than  this  that  which  distinguishes  the  sensuous  from  the 
sensual.  Describing  conditions  which  some  of  our  modern 
poets  would  think  would  justify  them  in  throwing  every 
shred  of  drapery  overboard,  it  reveals  nothing  that  the 
most  delicate  taste  cannot  enjoy.  The  picture  appeals 
solely  to  the  imagination,  and  to  nothing  lower,  which 
proves  that  Shakespear,  although  a  poet,  had  enough 
practical  sense  to  know  that  verse  which  does  not  appeal 
to  the  highest  aesthetic  nature  cannot  be  in  the  highest 
sense  artistic. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

EXPLANATORY  ALLOY  IN  ILLUSTRATIVE  REPRESENTATION. 

Illustrations  that  are  not  always  necessarily  representative — Their  Develop- 
ment gradually  traced  in  Descriptions  of  Natural  Scenery — Practical 
Bearing  of  this  on  the  Composition  of  Orations — Why  Common  People 
hear  some  gladly  and  others  not  at  all — Obscure  Styles  not  Brilliant — 
Examples  of  Obscure  Historical  and  Mythological  References  in  Poetry 
— Alloyed  Representation  Short-lived — How  References  to  possibly 
unknown  Things  are  made  in  Poetry  that  lives — Mixture  of  Main  and 
Illustrating  Thought  so  as  to  destroy  Representation — Examples  of  how 
this  Result  may  be  prevented. 

T  T  must  not  be  supposed  that  a  poet,  even  though  he 
uses  illustrative  representation,  can  overcome — merely 
by  doing  this — the  tendency  in  his  verse  to  pay  too  much 
attention  relatively  to  thought  as  contrasted  with  form, 
and  thus  to  make  his  representation  not  pure  but  alloyed. 
Alloyed  illustrative  representation  is  a  fault  on  a  larger 
scale,  similar  to  that  of  the  "  blending  "  of  metaphors  in 
which  plain  and  figurative  language  are  both  used  with 
reference  to  the  same  object  in  the  same  clause  or  sen- 
tence (see  Chapter  XVIII.).  To  understand  the  nature  of 
this  fault  we  must  go  back  to  pure  representation  for  a 
moment.  The  sixth  line  of  the  following  is  a  departure 
from  pure  representation.  It  expresses  what  could  not 
have  been  perceived  :  it  explains. 

So  saying,  from  the  pavement  he  half  rose, 
Slowly,  with  pain,  reclining  on  his  arm, 
And  looking  wistfully  with  wide  blue  eyes 
2Q? 


2Q4  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

As  in  a  picture.     Him  Sir  Bedivere 

Remorsefully  regarded  through  his  tears, 

And  would  have  spoken,  but  he  found  not  words. 

— Mori  D*  Arthur  :   Tennyson. 

Even  in  Homer,  notwithstanding  assertions  made  to 
the  contrary,  we  find  exceptional  passages  identical  in 
character  with  this  : 

Back  he  sprang, 

Hiding  amid  the  crowd,  that  so  the  Greeks 
Might  not  behold  the  wounded  limb,  and  scoff. 

— Iliad,  12  :  Bryant's  Trs. 

This  last  line  is  not  characteristic  of  Homer.  But  there 
are  numberless  ones  like  it  in  the  works  of  modern  writers, 
for  the  reason  that  all  of  us  modern  people  are  more  ac- 
customed than  the  ancient  to  look  beneath  the  surface  of 
things  ;  and  therefore  we  are  more  prone  in  our  descrip- 
tions to  assign  real  or  imaginary  motives  to  the  actions  of 
those  whom  we  are  watching.  The  moment,  however, 
that  this  analyzing  of  motives  becomes  characteristic  of 
description,  the  style  is  evidently  in  danger  of  becoming 
less  representative.  To  show  the  effect  produced  upon  it, 
notice  this  quotation  from  Crabbe's  Parish  Register.  It 
is  certainly  poetry  ;  series  of  pictures  are  called  up  as  we 
read  it ;  the  general  is  embodied  in  the  concrete  ;  the  ver- 
sification adds  to  the  interest  that  we  take  in  the  ideas 
expressed  in  it ;  and  yet  nothing  could  be  more  unlike  the 
poetry  of  Homer;  and  this  because  it  is  not  pure  repre- 
sentation, but  representation  alloyed  with  much  that  is 
merely  a  direct  presentation  of  the  writer's  own  thoughts. 

Phoebe  Dawson  gayly  crossed  the  green  ; 

In  haste  to  see  and  happy  to  be  seen  ; 

Her  air,  her  manners,  all  who  saw,  admired, 

Courteous  though  coy,  and  gentle  though  retired  ; 


THE  EXPLANATORY  IN  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The  joy  of  youth  and  health  her  eyes  displayed, 
And  ease  of  heart  her  every  look  conveyed  ; 
A  native  skill  her  simple  robes  expressed, 
As  with  untutored  elegance  she  dressed  ; 
The  lads  around  admired  so  fair  a  sight, 
And  Phoebe  felt,  and  felt  she  gave,  delight. 
****** 
Lo  !  now  with  red  rent  cloak  and  bonnet  black, 
And  torn  green  gown  loose  hanging  at  her  back, 
One  who  an  infant  in  her  arms  sustains, 
And  seems  in  patience  striving  with  her  pains, 
Pinched  are  her  looks,  as  one  who  pines  for  bread, 
Whose  cares  are  growing,  and  whose  hopes  are  fled  ; 
Pale  her  parched  lips,  her  heavy  eyes  sunk  low, 
And  tears  unnoticed  from  their  channels  flow  ; 
Serene  her  manner,  till  some  sudden  pain 
Frets  the  meek  soul,  and  then  she  's  calm  again. 

To  understand  how  this  explanatory  poetry,  in  which 
thought  that  is  not  at  all  representative  is  constantly 
being  thrust  into  the  form,  can  be  produced  even  when 
figurative  language  is  used,  let  us  trace  the  gradual  de- 
velopment of  the  tendency  from  its  beginning.  In  the 
following  description  of  evening,  analogies  are  drawn 
between  certain  effects  usually  seen  in  connection  with 
evening,  and  certain  others  usually  seen  in  connection 
with  human  beings.  In  each  case,  however,  only  such 
effects  are  mentioned  as  are  externally  perceptible,  like 
those  represented  in  the  words  twilight,  silence,  Hesperus, 
and  moon  on  the  one  hand,  and  in  the  words  still,  gray, 
livery,  clad,  accompanied,  pleased,  led,  rode,  rising,  majesty, 
and  apparent  queen,  on  the  other.  For  this  reason,  as  we 
read  the  description,  the  picture  of  what  is  done  by  a  hu- 
man being,  as  well  as  of  the  evening  effect  to  which  this 
is  likened,  comes  at  once  before  the  imagination. 

Now  came  still  evening  on,  and  twilight  gray 
Had  in  her  sober  livery  all  things  clad  ; 


296  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Silence  accompanied  ;    for  beast  and  bird, 
They  to  their  grassy  couch ,  these  to  their  nests, 
Were  slunk,  all  but  the  wakeful  nightingale  ; 
She  all  night  long  her  amorous  discant  sung  ; 
Silence  was  pleased  ;  now  glowed  the  firmament 
With  living  sapphires  ;  Hesperus  that  led 
The  starry  host,  rode  brightest,  till  the  moon, 
Rising  in  clouded  majesty,  at  length 
Apparent  queen,  unveiled  her  peerless  light, 
And  o'er  the  dark  her  silver  mantle  threw. 

— Paradise  Lost,  4  :  Milton. 

A  similar  analogy  is  given  us  in  the  following ;  but  in 
certain  places,  somewhat  subtle  to  detect,  as  in  the  words 
needing,  suffices,  and  ostentatious,  the  appearances  of  the 
natural  objects  mentioned  are  likened  not  to  what  is 
perceptible  in  human  beings,  but  to  imperceptible  motives 
which  can  only  be  surmised  by  an  observer.  The  harm  done 
to  the  representation  by  such  words  happens,  in  this  pas- 
sage, to  be  very  evident.  For,  in  the  end,  the  last  of  them, 
ostentatious,  runs  the  poet,  as  it  seems,  entirely  off  his  track. 
That  it  is  less  ostentatious  to  wear  a  moon  or  jewel  in  a 
zone  than  on  high,  is  inferred,  not  perceived  by  him,  and, 
in  order  to  give  us  his  view  of  the  Evening's  modesty,  he 
apparently  forgets  all  about  his  picture  of  her  in  the  west ; 
for  he  says  that  the  low  moon,  which  decorates  her,  is 
of  an  ampler  round.  But  the  evening  moon  never  is 
this  except  when  in  the  east.  He  may  mean,  indeed,  the 
dim  old  moon  encircling  as  it  does  at  times  the  crescent; 
but  few  would  derive  this  impression  from  his  words.  Or 
he  may  mean  to  have  the  round  refer  to  the  zone  of  the 
Evening  herself,  and  so  make  her  corpulent  enough  to  fit 
the  girdle  of  the  whole  horizon  !  But  whatever  he  may 
mean,  the  moment  we  try  to  frame  a  picture  from  this  or  any 
of  his  later  phrases,  we  find  that  the  alloy  at  first  introduced 
very  slightly  has  finally  injured  his  picture  very  greatly. 


THE  EXPLANATORY  IN  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Come,  Evening,  once  again,  season  of  peace  ; 

Return,  sweet  Evening,  and  continue  long  ! 

Methinks  I  see  thee  in  the  streaky  west, 

With  matron  step  slow-moving,  while  the  Night 

Treads  on  thy  sweeping  train  ;  one  hand  employed 

In  letting  fall  the  curtain  of  repose 

On  bird  and  beast,  the  other  charged  for  man 

With  sweet  oblivion  of  the  cares  of  day  : 

Not  sumptuously  adorned,  nor  needing  aid, 

Like  homely  feathered  Night,  of  clustering  gems  ; 

A  star  or  two,  just  twinkling  on  thy  brow, 

Suffices  thee  ;  save  that  the  moon  is  thine 

No  less  than  hers,  not  worn  indeed  on  high 

With  ostentatious  pageantry,  but  set 

With  modest  grandeur  in  thy  purple  zone, 

Resplendent  less,  but  of  an  ampler  round. 

-—  The  Task  ;    Winter  Evening  :  Cowpert 

A  little  further  development  of  the  tendency  under 
consideration  leads  to  a  style  in  which  there  appears  to 
be  in  the  figures  still  less  distinctness  of  representation. 
As  we  read  the  following,  the  imagination  does  not  per- 
ceive clearly  whether  the  orb,  ocean,  Vesper,  night,  clouds, 
breezes,  moon,  etc.,  are  meant  to  be  likened  to  human  or  to 
some  other  beings  ;  nor  is  there  any  thing  to  tell  us  why 
these  beings  act  as  is  indicated.  That  is  to  say,  we  fail  to 
see  pictures  here,  because  the  representation  is  alloyed  by 
the  introduction  of  too  many  of  the  thoughts  of  the 
writer.  Instead  of  referring  us  to  what  can  be  seen  in  a 
sentient  being,  to  which  a  material  object  is  compared,  he 
refers  us  to  what  may  or  may  not  be  an  explanation  of 
what  might  be  seen  in  such  a  being.  Men  sometimes  for- 
get — not  often,  however, — because  they  are  hushed.  So, 
he  says,  it  is  with  the  ocean ;  and  the  same  principle  is 
exemplified  in  many  other  of  his  words. 

The  sun's  bright  orb,  declining  all  serene, 

Now  glanced  obliquely  o'er  the  woodland  scene  ; 


298  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Creation  smiles  around  ;  on  every  spray 
The  warbling  birds  exalt  their  evening  lay  ; 

****** 
The  crystal  streams  that  velvet  meadows  lave, 
To  the  green  ocean  roll  with  chiding  wave. 
The  glassy  ocean  hushed  forgets  to  roar, 
But  trembling  murmurs  on  the  sandy  shore. 

****** 
While  glowing  Vesper  leads  the  starry  train, 
And  night  slow  draws  her  veil  o'er  land  and  main, 
Emerging  clouds  the  azure  east  invade, 
And  wrap  the  lucid  spheres  in  gradual  shade  ; 

****** 
Deep  midnight  now  involves  the  livid  skies, 
When  eastern  breezes,  yet  enervate,  rise  ; 
The  waning  moon  behind  a  watery  shroud, 
Pale  glimmer'd  o'er  the  long-protracted  cloud  ; 
A  mighty  halo  round  her  silver  throne 
With  parting  meteors  crossed,  portentous  shone  ; 
This  in  the  troubled  sky  full  oft  prevails, 
Oft  deemed  a  signal  of  tempestuous  gales. 

— Shipwreck,  I  :  Falconer, 

The  same  indistinctness  of  representation,  though  with 
less  in  it  of  the  explanatory  element,  characterizes  the 
poetry  of  Thomson.  Here  is  what  he  has  to  say  of  an 
evening : 

The  western  sun  withdraws  the  shorten'd  day  ; 

And  humid  Evening,  gliding  o'er  the  sky, 

In  her  chill  progress,  to  the  ground  condensed 

The  vapors  throws.     Where  creeping  waters  ooze, 

Where  marshes  stagnate,  and  where  rivers  wind, 

Cluster  the  rolling  fogs,  and  swim  along 

The  dusky  mantled  lawn.     Meanwhile  the  Moon, 

Full-orbed,  and  breaking  through  the  scattered  clouds, 

Shows  her  broad  Visage  in  the  crimson'd  east. 

Turn'd  to  the  sun  direct,  her  spotted  Disk, 

Where  mountains  rise,  umbrageous  dales  descend, 


THE  EXPLANATORY  IN  ILLUSTRATIONS.          299 

And  caverns  deep,  as  optic  tube  descries, 

A  smaller  earth,  gives  us  his  blaze  again, 

Void  of  its  flame,  and  sheds  a  softer  day. 

Now  through  the  passing  Cloud  she  seems  to  stoop, 

Now  up  the  pale  Cerulean  rides  sublime. 

Wide  the  pale  Deluge  floats,  and,  streaming  mild 

O'er  the  sky'd  mountain  to  the  shadowy  vale, 

While  rocks  and  floods  reflect  the  quivering  gleam, 

The  whole  air  whitens  with  a  boundless  tide 

Of  silver  radiance,  trembling  round  the  world. 

— Seasons ;  Autumn. 

There  is  a  practical  bearing  of  the  tendency  under  con- 
sideration upon  rhetoric  and  oratory.  Certain  public 
speakers  like  F.  W.  Robertson,  Beecher,  and  Spurgeon 
are  able  to  hold  the  attention  of  both  the  cultivated  and 
the  uncultivated  ;  others  equally  great  in  their  way,  like 
Everett,  Storrs,  and  James  Martineau,  appeal  only  to  the 
cultivated.  Why  is  this  ?  Of  course  their  thought,  aside 
from  their  style,  has  something  to  do  with  it,  but  is  there 
not  something  in  their  style  also  that  accounts  for  it  ?  If 
we  examine  the  rhetoric  of  orators  of  the  former  class,  we 
find  that  the  presentation  of  the  thought  in  one  clause  or 
sentence  is  seldom  mixed  with  its  representation  in  an- 
other ;  in  short,  that  whatever  representation  is  attempted 
is  pure.  Robertson,  for  instance,  says  in  one  of  his  ser- 
mons : 

"  As  the  free  air  is  to  one  out  of  health  the  cause  of 
cold  and  diseased  lungs,  so  to  the  healthy  man  it  is  a 
source  of  great  vigor.  The  rotten  fruit  is  sweet  to  the 
worm,  but  nauseous  to  the  palate  of  man.  It  is  the  same 
air  and  the  same  fruit,  acting  differently  upon  different 
beings.  To  different  men  a  different  world  :  to  one  all 
pollution  ;  to  another  all  purity." 

And  Beecher  says,  as  reported  in  the  "  Life  Thoughts  " : 

"  But  when  once  faith  has  taught  the  soul  that  it  has 


3OO  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

wings,  then  it  begins  to  fly,  and,  flying,  finds  that  all  God's 
domain  is  its  liberty.  And  as  the  swallow  that  comes 
back  to  roost  in  its  hard  hole  at  night  is  quite  content,  so 
that  the  morning  gives  it  again  all  the  bright  heavens  for 
its  soaring  ground,  so  may  men  close  quartered  and 
cramped  in  bodily  accommodations  be  quite  patient  of 
their  narrow  bounds,  for  their  thoughts  may  fly  out  every 
day  gloriously.  And  as  in  autumn  these  children  of  the 
chimney  gather  in  flocks  and  fly  away  to  heavens  without 
a  winter,  so  men  shall  find  a  day  when  they  too  shall  mi- 
grate ;  and  rising  into  a  higher  sphere  without  storm  or 
winter,  shall  remember  the  troubles  of  this  mortal  life,  as 
birds  in  Florida  maybe  supposed  to  remember  the  North- 
ern chills  which  drove  them  forth  to  a  fairer  clime." 

This  last  is  representation  as  pure  as  any  thing  in  Ho- 
mer. Beecher's  pictures  are  equally  pure,  too,  in  his 
metaphors.  "  A  lowly  home  has  reared  many  high  na- 
tures." "  The  heart  of  friends  is  the  mirror  of  good 
men,"  etc. 

In  the  rhetoric  of  the  other  class  of  orators,  however, 
the  representation  is  alloyed  with  presentation  to  such  an 
extent  that  minds  unacquainted  with  the  methods  of  lit- 
erary workmanship  do  not  always  recognize  either  the 
illustrating  picture  and  enjoy  it,  or  the  illustrated  thought, 
which  seems  to  them  to  be  merely  lumbered  by  material 
in  which  others  see  pictures.  Nothing  could  be  finer  of 
its  kind  than  the  following  from  Dr.  Storr's  address  on 
"  The  Early  American  Spirit  "  ;  yet  notice  how  both  pic- 
tures and  thoughts  are  affected  by  the  way  in  which  they 
are  welded  together : 

"  All  of  them  came  out  of  communities  which  had  had 
to  face  portentous  problems,  and  which  were  at  the  time 
profoundly  stirred  by  vast  moral  and  political  forces. 


REPRESENTATION  AND  PRESENTATION.  301 

They  bore  them  imbedded  in  their  consciousness,  entering 
whether  articulated  or  not,  with  a  dominant  force  into 
their  thought,  into  their  life.  They  transported  to  these 
coasts,  by  the  simple  act  of  transferring  their  life  hither, 
a  power  and  a  promise  from  the  greatest  age  of  European 
advancement.  They  could  not  have  helped  it  if  they 
would.  They  could  more  easily  have  left  behind  the 
speech  which  they  had  learned  in  childhood  than  they 
could  have  dropped  on  their  stormy  way  across  the  ocean 
the  self-reliance,  the  indomitable  courage,  the  constructive 
energy,  and  the  great  aspiration,  of  which  the  lands  they 
left  were  full. 

#  *  *  *  *  *  * 

"  It  is  easy  to  exaggerate  their  religious  enthusiasm  till 
all  the  other  traits  of  their  characters  are  dimmed  by  its 
excessive  brightness.  Our  filial  pride  inclines  us  to  this  ; 
for,  if  we  could,  we  should  love  to  feel,  all  of  us,  that  we 
are  sprung  from  untitled  nobles,  from  saints  who  need  no 
canonization,  from  men  of  such  heroic  mould,  and  women 
of  such  tender  devoutness  that  the  world  elsewhere  was 
not  worthy  of  them  ;  that  they  brought  to  these  coasts  a 
wholly  unique  celestial  life,  through  the  scanty  cabins 
which  were  to  it  as  a  manger  and  the  quaint  apparel  which 
furnished  its  swaddling  clothes  ;  that  airs  Elysian  played 
around  them,  while  they  took  the  wilderness  as  was  said 
of  the  Lady  Arabella  Johnson,  '  on  their  way  to  heaven/  " 

There  is  nothing  obscure  in  this  style  to  a  cultivated 
man,  but  there  is  to  an  uncultivated  one,  because,  while 
composed  in  a  representative  style,  it  is  not  in  the  highest 
sense  representative.  It  degenerates  very  easily,  too,  into 
a  style  in  which,  even  among  the  cultivated,  the  figures 
hinder  rather  than  help  the  presentation  of  the  thought. 
In  the  following  we  have  an  example  of  this  effect,  a  pas- 


3O2  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

sage  in  many  respects  admirably  composed,  but  ordinary 
people  will  be  obliged  to  think  twice  before  understanding 
what  it  means.  "  Vice  has  this  additional  condemnation, — 
that  the  present  is  dogged  and  hunted  down  by  the  evil 
companionship  of  the  past,  that  its  words  have  the  taint 
and  its  suggestions  the  stain  of  a  worn-out  debauch  ;  that 
it  cannot  shake  itself  loose  from  the  foul  memories  which 
hang  about  it,  nor  rebuke  the  malignant  and  sneering 
devils  now  evoked  even  by  the  purest  objects." 

This  is  a  method  of  writing  not  uncommon  in  our 
day,  and  it  is  called  brilliant.  But  no  style  is  really  bril- 
liant the  figures  and  ideas  of  which  do  not  stand  out  in 
bright  light  and  clear  relief ;  and  no  writer  of  the  first  class, 
notwithstanding  the  example  of  Carlyle,  and,  to  some 
extent,  of  Emerson,  obscures  his  thought  by  an  endeavor 
to  render  it  poetically  representative.  We  have  found 
how  true  this  is  as  applied  to  the  poetry  of  the  best 
writers  ;  it  is  equally  true  as  applied  to  their  prose.  The 
fact  is  that  a  man  who  knows  best  what  poetry  is,  knows 
best  what  poetry  is  not ;  and  when  he  tries  to  write  prose 
he  gives  men  the  benefit  of  his  knowledge.  Nothing, 
indeed,  can  be  more  simple  and  direct  than  the  prose  of 
Shakespear,  Coleridge,  Goethe,  Wordsworth,  and  Byron. 
A  man  judging  from  it  might  suppose  that  these  writers, 
as  compared  with  men  like  Professor  Wilson,  Hartley 
Coleridge,  and  Carlyle,  had  but  little  representative 
ability. 

At  present,  however,  we  are  dealing  with  poetry.  The 
bearing  upon  it  of  what  has  been  said  is  this, — that  mod- 
ern poetry,  like  modern  prose,  tends  to  alloyed  represen- 
tation. The  similarity  of  the  following  poetry  and  the 
last  of  our  prose  quotations  will  be  recognized  at  once ; 
also  that  the  same  tendency  underlies  both,  viz.,  the 


REPRESENTA  TION  AND  PRESENT  A  TION.          303 

crowding  together  of  thought  and  illustration  in  the  form, 
in  such  a  way  that  neither  of  the  two  stands  forth  in  clear 
relief.  Here  the  tendency  is  only  slightly  suggested  : 

O  Mother  State,  how  quenched  thy  Sinai  fires  ! 

Is  there  none  left  of  thy  staunch  Mayflower  breed  ? 
No  spark  among  the  ashes  of  thy  sires, 

Of  Virtue's  altar-flame  the  kindling  seed  ? 
Are  these  thy  great  men,  these  that  cringe  and  creep, 

And  writhe  through  slimy  ways  to  place  and  power  ? — 
How  long,  O  Lord,  before  thy  wrath  shall  reap 

Our  frail-stemmed  summer  prosperings  in  their  flower  ? 
O  for  one  hour  of  that  undaunted  stock 
That  went  with  Vane  and  Sidney  to  the  block  ! 

O  for  a  whiff  of  Naseby,  that  would  sweep, 

With  its  stern  Puritan  besom,  all  this  chaff 

From  the  Lord's  threshing-floor  !     Yet  more  than  half 
The  victory  is  attained,  when  one  or  two, 

Through  the  fool's  laughter  and  the  traitor's  scorn, 

Beside  thy  sepulchre  can  abide  the  morn, 
Crucified  Truth,  when  thou  shalt  rise  anew. 

—  To  John  G.  Palfrey  :  Lowell. 

Here  there  is  a  much  further  development  of  the  ten- 
dency : 

Meantime,  just  meditate  my  madrigal 
O'  the  mugwort  that  conceals  a  dewdrop  safe  ! 
What,  dullard  ?  we  and  you  in  smothery  chafe, 
Babes,  baldheads,  stumbled  thus  far  into  Zin 
The  Horrid,  getting  neither  out  nor  in, 
A  hungry  sun  above  us,  sands  that  bung 
Our  throats, — each  dromedary  lolls  a  tongue, 
Each  camel  churns  a  sick  and  frothy  chap, 
And  you  'twixt  tales  of  Potiphar's  mishap, 
And  sonnets  on  the  earliest  ass  that  spoke, 
Remark,  you  wonder  any  one  needs  choke 
With  founts  about !     Potsherd  him,  Gibeonites  1 
While  awkwardly  enough  your  Moses  smites 
The  rock,  though  he  forego  his  Promised  Land, 


3O4  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART, 

Thereby,  have  Satan  claim  his  carcass,  and 
Figure  as  Metaphysic  Poet     ...     ah  ! 
Mark  ye  the  dim  first  oozings  ?     Meribah  ! 
Then,  quaffing  at  the  fount,  my  courage  gained, 
Recall — not  that  I  prompt  ye — who  explained     .     .     . 
44  Presumptuous  !  "  interrupts  one. 

— Sordello,  3  :  R.  Browning. 

In  addition  to  what  has  been  said  already,  it  will  be 
noticed  that  in  the  first  of  these  quotations,  phrases  like 
Sinai  fires,  Mayflower  breed,  whiff  of  Naseby,  Puritan  besom, 
etc.,  and  in  the  second,  words  like  Zin  the  Horrid,  Potiphars, 
ass,  Gibeonites,  Moses,  Meribah,  etc.,  call  up  no  definite  pic- 
tures, though  at  first  they  seem  to  do  so.  They  merely 
call  up  ideas,  which,  in  turn,  call  up  pictures  to  the  poet's 
mind,  on  account  of  the  facts  which  he  has  come  to  asso- 
ciate with  these  words.  They  call  up  the  same  ideas  in  the 
minds  of  others,  only  so  far  as  these  happen  to  have  the 
same  associations  with  the  terms  that  the  poet  has.  But 
suppose  the  people  of  India  or  China,  or  of  any  clime  or 
age  having  no  such  associations,  were  to  read  the  poetry ; 
for  them  there  would  be  no  pictures  represented— scarcely 
any  ideas  presented  by  this  kind  of  language.  In  saying 
this,  it  is  not  meant  that  all  allusions  to  such  things  as 
are  mentioned  here  for  the  sake  of  illustration  should 
be  banished  from  poetry  ;  it  is  meant  merely  that  this 
sort  of  material  should  not  be  crowded  into  the  form  in 
such  a  way  as  to  interfere  with  clearness  of  representa- 
tion. Some  of  the  allusions,  with  very  slight  alterations, 
might  be  made  intelligible  and  forcible  to  readers  the 
most  ignorant  of  the  facts  mentioned,  and  the  most 
devoid  of  sympathy  with  the  principles  exemplified  by 
them.  All  of  the  allusions  would  injure  the  poetry  less, 
if  they  stood  in  passages  by  themselves,  instead  of  being 
crowded,  as  they  are,  into  every  part  of  it.  In  that  case 


REPRESENTA  TION  AND  PRESENTA  TION.          305 

there  might  be,  aside  from  them,  enough  of  pure  repre- 
sentation in  the  poetry  to  render  it  of  permanent  and 
universal  interest.  Some  of  us,  perhaps,  have  seen  old 
paintings,  the  costumes  in  which,  representing  the  fash- 
ions of  the  day,  made  the  figures  seem  almost  ridiculous ; 
but,  notwithstanding  this,  the  faces  of  the  forms  thus 
clothed,  because  pure  representations  of  nature,  were 
beautiful  or  attractive.  We  have  seen,  also,  pictures  of 
North  American  Indians,  in  which  not  only  the  forms 
were  so  robed,  but  the  faces  so  painted,  that  what  may  be 
termed  the  alloyed  representation  of  their  day,  left  in  its 
portraiture  no  pure  representation  of  nature  whatsoever 
for  us  really  to  admire.  The  kind  of  poetry  of  which  we 
have  just  been  treating,  is  in  danger  at  some  time  of  pro- 
ducing similar  effects.  Often  not  even  in  small,  scattered 
parts  of  it,  is  there  any  pure  representation.  When, 
therefore,  the  fashion  of  the  time  to  which  it  is  addressed 
goes  by,  nothing  will  be  left  to  render  it  of  permanent  in- 
terest. We  come  back  here,  therefore,  to  the  place  where 
we  started.  Art  is  representative,  and  that  which  is  not 
representative  in  the  highest  sense  does  not  meet  the  re- 
quirements of  art,  and  therefore  cannot  live  as  true  art 
does.  Allusions  in  poetry  that  lives  are  separated  from 
the  main  thought,  as  in  the  following,  which,  though  not 
wholly  to  be  commended,  can  be  read  with  intelligence 
even  by  one  who  does  not  recall  the  particulars  of  the 
myths  to  which  reference  is  made. 

Thus  saying,  from  her  husband's  hand,  her  hand 
Soft  she  withdrew  ;  and  like  a  wood-nymph  light. 
Oread  or  Dryad,  or  of  Delia's  train, 
Betook  her  to  the  groves,  but  Delia's  self 
In  gait  surpassed,  and  goddess-like  deport, 
Though  not  as  she  with  bow  and  quiver  armed. 


306  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

But  with  such  gard'ning  tools  as  art,  yet  rude, 
Guiltless  of  fire  had  form'd,  or  angels  brought. 

— Paradise  Lost,  9  :  Milton. 

Not  less  but  more  heroic  than  the  wrath 
Of  stern  Achilles  on  his  foe  pursued 
Thrice  fugitive  about  Troy  walls  :  or  rage 
Of  Turnus  for  Lavinia  disespous'd, 
Or  Neptune's  ire  or  Juno's,  that  so  long 
Perplex'd  the  Greek  and  Cytherea's  son. 

— Idem,  9. 

Sometimes,  too,  such  allusions  in  the  best  poetry,  are 
explained  or  rendered  picturesque,  as  in  the  following: 

Do  you  believe  me  yet,  or  shall  I  call 

Antiquity  from  the  old  schools  of  Greece 

To  testify  the  arms  of  chastity  ? 

Hence  had  the  huntress  Dian  her  dread  bow, 

Fair  silver-shafted  queen,  for  ever  chaste, 

Wherewith  she  tamed  the  brinded  lioness 

And  spotted  mountain  pard,  but  set  at  nought 

The  frivolous  bolt  of  Cupid  ;  gods  and  men 

Fear'd  her  stern  frown,  and  she  was  queen  o'  th'  woods. 

What  was  that  snaky-headed  Gorgon  shield, 

That  wise  Minerva  wove,  unconquer'd  virgin, 

Wherewith  she  freezed  her  foes  to  congeal'd  stone, 

But  rigid  looks  of  chaste  austerity, 

And  noble  grace  that  dash'd  brute  violence 

With  sudden  adoration  and  blank  awe  ? 

— Comus  '  Milton. 

It  is  not  merely  in  historical  or  mythological  allusions, 
however,  that  the  main  thought  of  a  passage  can  be  so 
mixed  with  the  illustrating  figures  as  to  destroy  their 
representative  character.  The  same  tendency  will  be 
recognized  in  the  following: 

Yes,  the  pine  is  the  mother  of  legends  ;  what  food 

For  their  grim  roots  is  left  when  the  thousand-yeared  wood — 

The  dim-aisled  cathedral,  whose  tall  arches  spring 

Light,  sinewy,  graceful,  firm-set  as  the  wing 


REPRESENTA  TION  AND  PRESENT  A  TION.         307 

From  Michael's  white  shoulder — is  hewn  and  defaced 

By  iconoclast  axes  in  desperate  waste, 

And  its  wrecks  seek  the  ocean  it  prophesied  long, 

Cassandra-like,  crooning  its  mystical  song  ? 

Then  the  legends  go  with  them — even  yet  on  the  sea 

A  wild  virtue  is  left  in  the  touch  of  the  tree, 

And  the  sailor's  night  watches  are  thrilled  to  the  core 

With  the  lineal  offspring  of  Odin  and  Thor. 

—  The  Growth  of  the  Legend  :  Lowell. 

In  contrast  with  this,  notice  how  clearly  both  thoughts 
and  figures,  and  the  thoughts  by  means  of  the  figures, 
stand  out  in  poetry  that  is  truly  representative : 

Truth  forever  on  the  scaffold,  Wrong  forever  on  the  throne, — 
Yet  that  scaffold  sways  the  Future,  and,  behind  the  dim  unknown, 
Standeth  God  within  the  shadow,  keeping  watch  above  his  own. 

—  The  Present  Crisis  :  Lowell. 

Virtue  ?  a  fig  !  't  is  in  ourselves  that  we  are  thus  or  thus.  Our  bodies  are 
gardens  to  the  which  our  wills  are  gardeners  ;  so  that  if  we  will  plant  net- 
tles, or  sew  lettuce  ;  set  hyssop,  and  weed  up  thyme  ;  supply  it  with  one 
gender  of  herbs,  or  distract  it  with  many  ;  either  to  have  it  sterile  with  idle- 
ness, or  manured  with  industry  ;  why  the  power  and  corrigible  authority  of 

this  lies  in  our  wills. 

— Othello,  i.,  3  :  Shakespcar. 

You  have  seen 

Sunshine  and  rain  at  once  ;  her  smiles  and  tears 
Were  like  a  better  May  ;  those  happy  smilets, 
That  played  on  her  ripe  lips  seemed  not  to  know 
What  guests  were  in  her  eyes. 

— Lear,  iv. ,  3  :  Idem. 

Through  tatter'd  clothes  small  vices  do  appear  ; 
Robes  and  furr'd  gowns  hide  all.     Plate  sin  with  gold, 
And  the  strong  lance  of  justice  hurtless  breaks  ; 
Arm  it  in  rags,  a  pigmy's  straw  does  pierce  it    ,     .     . 

.     .     .     Get  thee  glass  eyes  ; 
And  like  a  scurvy  politician  seem 
To  see  the  things  thou  dost  not. 

— Idem,  iv.,  6. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

ORNAMENTAL  ALLOY   IN   REPRESENTATION. 

Poetic  Development  of  the  far-fetched  Simile  in  the  Illustrating  of  Illustra- 
tions —  Examples  of  this  from  several  Modern  Writers  —  Whose  Repre- 
sentation or  Illustration  fails  to  represent  or  illustrate  —  Poetic  Devel- 
opment of  the  Mixed  Metaphor  —  Examples  from  Modern  Poets  —  In 
what  will  this  result  —  More  Examples  —  How  the  Tendency  leads  the 
Poet  from  his  Main  Thought  to  pursue  Suggestions  made  even  by 
Sounds  —  Representing  thus  a  Lack  of  Sanity  or  of  Discipline,  neither  of 
which  is  what  Art  should  represent. 


examination  of  the  effects  upon  poetry  of  the 
didactic  tendency,  in  which  considerations  of  thought 
overbalance  those  of  form,  have  led  us  to  trace  certain 
phases  of  failure  to  a  lack  of  representation.  We  have 
now  to  examine  the  effects  of  the  ornate  tendency,  in 
which  considerations  of  form  overbalance  those  of  thought, 
and  in  which  therefore  there  is  failure  because  of  an  ex- 
cess of  representation. 

It  is  simply  natural  for  one  who  has  obtained  facility  in 
illustrating  his  ideas  to  overdo  the  matter,  at  times,  and 
to  carry  his  art  so  far  as  to  re-illustrate  that  which  has 
been  sufficiently  illustrated  or  is  itself  illustrative.  The 
first  form  that  we  need  to  notice,  in  which  this  tendency 
shows  itself,  is  a  poetic  development  and  extension  of 
what  rhetoricians  term  the  "  far-fetched  "  simile,  a  simile 
in  which  minor  points  of  resemblance  are  sought  out  and 
dwelt  upon  in  minute  detail  and  at  unnecessary  length. 
Attention  has  been  directed  in  another  place  to  the  way 

308 


ORNAMENT  IN  POETRY.  309 

in  which  the  exclusively  allegorical  treatment  in  Spenser's 
Faerie  Queene  causes  us  to  lose  sight  of  the  main  sub- 
ject of  the  poem.  An  allegory,  as  has  been  said,  is  mainly 
an  extended  simile.  The  poetic  fault  of  which  I  am  to 
speak  is  sometimes  found  in  similes,  sometimes  in  alle- 
gories, and  sometimes  in  episodes  filled  with  metaphorical 
language,  partaking  partly  of  the  distinctive  nature  of 
both.  These  passages  seem  to  be  suggested  as  illustra- 
tions of  the  main  subject,  but  they  are  so  extended  and 
elaborated  that  they  really  obscure  it.  As  the  reader 
goes  on  to  peruse  them,  he  either  forgets  altogether  what 
the  subject  to  be  illustrated  is,  or  he  finds  himself  unable 
to  separate  that  which  belongs  only  to  it,  from  that  which 
belongs  only  to  the  illustration. 

It  is  largely  owing  to  passages  manifesting  this  charac- 
teristic that  Robert  Browning's  writings  seem  obscure  to 
so  many.  Most  persons  would  be  obliged  to  read  the  fol- 
lowing, for  example,  two  or  three  times  before  understand- 
ing it,  and  this  because  of  the  difficulty  they  experience 
in  separating  the  particulars  of  the  passage  that  go  with 
the  main  thought  from  those  that  go  with  the  illustrating 
thought ;  in  other  words,  the  excess  of  representation  in 
the  form  interferes  with  its  clearness. 

The  man  is  witless  of  the  size,  the  sum, 
The  value,  in  proportion  of  all  things, 

****** 
Should  his  child  sicken  unto  death, — why,  look 
For  scarce  abatement  of  his  cheerfulness, 
Or  pretermission  of  his  daily  craft — 
While  a  word,  gesture,  glance,  from  that  same  child 
At  play,  or  in  school,  or  laid  asleep, 
Will  start  him  to  an  agony  of  fear, 
Exasperation,  just  as  like  !  demand 
The  reason  why — "  't  is  but  a  word,"  object — 
"  A  gesture  " — he  regards  thee  as  our  lord 


$10  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

Who  lived  there  in  the  pyramid  alone, 

Looked  at  us,  dost  thou  mind,  when  being  young 

We  both  would  unadvisedly  recite 

Some  charm's  beginning,  from  that  book  of  his, 

Able  to  bid  the  sun  throb  wide  and  burst 

All  into  stars,  as  suns  grown  old  are  wont. 

Thou  and  the  child  have  each  a  veil  alike 

Thrown  o'er  your  heads  from  under  which  ye  both 

Stretch  your  blind  hands  and  trifle  with  a  match 

Over  a  mine  of  Greek  fire,  did  ye  know  ! 

He  holds  on  firmly  to  some  thread  of  life — 

(It  is  the  life  to  lead  perforcedly) 

Which  runs  across  some  vast  distracting  orb 

Of  glory  on  either  side  that  meagre  thread, 

Which,  conscious  of,  he  must  not  enter  yet — 

The  spiritual  life  around  the  earthly  life  ! 

The  law  of  that  is  known  to  him  as  this — 

His  heart  and  brain  move  there,  his  feet  stay  here. 

So  is  the  man  perplexed  with  impulses 

Sudden  to  start  off  crosswise,  not  straight  on, 

Proclaiming  what  is  Right  and  Wrong  across — 

And  not  along, — this  black  thread  through  the  blaze — 

"  It  should  be  "  balked  by  "  here  it  cannot  be." 

— An  Epistle. 

It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  these  episodes  of 
Browning  are  often  very  charming  to  those  who  have 
come  to  understand  them,  e*  g.  : 

And  hereupon  they  bade  me  daub  away. 

Thank  you  !  my  head  being  crammed,  their  walls  a  blank, 

Never  was  such  prompt  disemburdening. 

First,  every  sort  of  monk,  the  black  and  white, 

I  drew  them,  fat  and  lean  :  then,  folks  at  church, 

From  good  old  gossips  waiting  to  confess 

Their  cribs  of  barrel-droppings,  candle-ends, — 

To  the  breathless  fellow  at  the  altar-foot 

Fresh  from  his  murder,  safe  and  sitting  there 

With  the  little  children  round  him  in  a  row 

Of  admiration,  half  for  his  beard  and  half 

For  that  white  anger  of  his  victim's  son 


ORNAMENT  IN  POETRY.  31 1 

Shaking  a  fist  at  him  with  one  fierce  arm, 

Signing  himself  with  the  other  because  of  Christ 

(Whose  sad  face  on  the  cross  sees  only  this 

After  the  passion  of  a  thousand  years) 

Till  some  poor  girl,  her  apron  o'er  her  head, 

Which  the  intense  eyes  looked  through,  came  at  eve 

On  tiptoe,  said  a  word,  dropped  in  a  loaf, 

Her  pair  of  ear-rings  and  a  bunch  of  flowers 

The  brute  took  growling,  prayed,  and  then  was  gone. 

I  painted  all,  then  cried,  "  't  is  ask  and  have, — 

Choose,  for  more  's  ready  !  " — laid  the  ladder  flat, 

And  showed  my  covered  bit  of  cloister  wall. 

— Fra  Lippo  Lippi. 

This  way  of  turning  from  the  main  thought  of  a  pas- 
sage, in  order  to  amplify  and  illustrate  the  illustration, 
characterizes  still  more  the  poetry  of  a  later  school. 
Notice  how,  in  the  following  from  Gerald  Massey,  the 
"Oak"  is  used  to  illustrate  the  condition  of  England, 
and  then  the  picture  of  Victory  further  on  is  used  to 
illustrate  the  condition  of  the  oak. 

And  England  slumbered  in  the  lap  of  Peace, 
Beneath  her  grand  old  Oak  which,  hale  and  strong, 
Rode  down  the  storm,  and  wrestled  with  the  winds, 
To  rise  in  pomp  of  bloom,  and  paean  of  song, 
Green  with  the  sap  of  many  hundred  springs  ; 
And  tossed  its  giant  arms  in  wanton  life, 
Like  Victory  smiling  in  the  sun  of  Glory. 

— Glimpses  of  the  War:  Massey. 

But  it  is  Swinburne  who  has  developed  most  fully,  and 
apparently  with  design,  this  method  of  catching  at  the 
illustrating  thought  as  if  it  were  the  main  thought, 
and  going  on  to  illustrate  it,  and  then  catching  at  this 
second  illustration  once  more,  and  treating  it  in  the  same 
way,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum.  Notice  this  from  his  Evening 
on  the  Broads  : 


312  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

All  over  the  gray  soft  shallow 

Hover  the  colors  and  clouds  of  twilight,  void  of  a  star. 
As  a  bird  unfledged  in  the  broad  winged  night,  whose  winglets  are  callow 
Yet,  but  soon  with  their  plumes  will  she  cover  her  brood  from  afar, 
Cover  the  brood  of  her  worlds  that  cumber  the  skies  with  their  blossom 
Thick  as  the  darkness  of  leaf-shadowed  spring  is  encumbered  with  flowers. 
World  upon  world  is  enwound  in  the  bountiful  girth  of  her  bosom, 
Warm  and  lustrous  with  life  lovely  to  look  on  as  ours. 
Still  is  the  sunset  adrift  as  a  spirit  in  doubt  that  dissembles 
Still  with  itself,  being  sick  of  division  and  dimmed  by  dismay — 
Nay,  not  so  ;  but  with  love  and  delight  beyond  passion  it  trembles, 
Fearful  and  fain  of  the  night,  lovely  with  love  of  the  day  : 
Fain  and  fearful  of  rest  that  is  like  unto  death,  and  begotten 
Out  of  the  womb  of  the  tomb,  born  of  the  seed  of  the  grave  : 
Lovely  with  shadows  of  loves  that  are  only  not  wholly  forgotten, 
Only  not  wholly  suppressed  by  the  dark  as  a  wreck  by  the  wave. 

The  fault  in  this  mode  of  illustrating,  or  representing, 
lies  in  the  fact  that  it  does  not  illustrate  nor  represent. 
The  poet,  in  writing  it,  has  made  the  form  an  end  and  not 
a  means.  His  thoughts,  and  methods  of  developing  them, 
are  suggested  by  the  representation,  and  not  by  that 
which  it  is  supposed  to  represent,  and  which  his  readers 
naturally  expect  it  to  represent.  Accordingly,  his  readers 
cannot  distinguish  the  main  thought  from  the  illustrating 
thought,  nor  this  again  from  the  re-illustrating  thought, 
and  the  whole  passage  is  necessarily  more  or  less  obscure. 
The  poet  has  not  made  his  subject  stand  forth  in  clear, 
concrete  outlines,  as  art  should  do  ;  but  has  so  veneered 
and  besmeared  it  with  excess  of  ornamentation  that  no 
one  can  tell  very  decidedly  just  what  his  subject  is.  Be- 
sides this,  there  is  another  fundamental  error  in  this  style  ; 
but  as  it  underlies  also  the  next  fault  that  is  to  be  men- 
tioned, reference  will  be  made  to  it  after  we  have  con- 
sidered that. 

The  second  form  that  we  need  to  notice,  of  the  ten- 
dency now  under  consideration,  is  allied  to  the  "  mixed 


ORNAMENT  IN  POETRY.  313 

metaphor "  in  the  same  way  as  we  found  that  the 
first  was  to  the  "far-fetched  simile."  Using  "mixed 
metaphors  "  is  a  fault  from  which,  as  most  of  us  know,  our 
very  best  poets  are  not  altogether  exempt.  Shakespear 
makes  Hamlet  ask 

Whether  't  is  nobler  in  the  mind  to  suffer 
The  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune  ; 
Or  to  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles, 
And  by  opposing  end  them  ? 

—Hamlet,  iii.,  I. 

And  Milton  says  : 

How  sweetly  did  they  float  upon  the  wings 
Of  silence,  through  the  empty-vaulted  night, 
At  every  fall  smoothing  the  raven  down 
Of  darkness  till  it  smiled! 

— Comus. 

Poets,  like  other  people,  are  careless  at  times. 
Very  likely  this  fact  will  account  for  these  passages. 
Possibly,  however,  the  mixed  metaphors  were  used  with 
a  design, — in  the  first  case,  to  represent  confusion  of 
thought,  and  in  the  second  antithesis.  But  what  are  we 
to  say  of  the  following  from  Tennyson  ? 

For  I  dipt  into  the  future  far  as  human  eye  could  see. 

—Locksley  Hall. 
With  that  she  kissed 

His  forehead,  then,  a  moment  after,  clung 
About  him  and  betwixt  them  blossomed  up 
From  out  a  common  vein  of  memory 
Sweet  household  talk,  and  phrases  of  the  hearth. 

— Princess. 

A  classic  lecture,  rich  in  sentiment 
With  scraps  of  thunderous  Epic  lilted  out 
By  violet-hooded  doctors,  elegies 
And  quoted  odes,  and  jewels  five  words  long, 
That  on  the  stretched  forefinger  of  all  time 

Sparkle  forever. 

— Princess. 


314  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

"  Be  it  so,"  the  other,  "  that  we  still  may  lead 
The  new  light  up  and  culminate  in  peace" 

— Idem. 

There  are  several  questions  which  passages  like  these 
suggest, — passages  so  numerous  as  to  be  almost  charac- 
teristic of  the  style  of  Tennyson.  Are  they  consciously 
designed  to  crowd  the  form  with  that  which  shall  orna- 
ment it  ?  Do  they  add  to  the  attractiveness  of  the  form  ? 
Do  they  do  this  without  interfering  with  the  pureness  of 
its  representation  ?  Have  they  any  thing  to  do  with 
the  fact  that  those  who  have  never  read  poetry  of  the 
school  of  Tennyson  need  to  learn  how  to  understand  it  ? 
If  people  of  our  own  day  need  to  learn  this,  will  not 
people  of  future  days  need  to  do  the  same  ?  If  so,  after 
this  kind  of  poetry  ceases  to  be  the  fashion,  will  anybody 
ever  take  the  trouble  to  learn  to  understand  it  ? — in 
other  words,  is  there  not  danger  that  this  poetry,  simply 
because  its  representation  is  not  pure,  will  not  become 
classic?  Possibly  it  may.  Even  the  quotations  just 
given  are  no  more  mixed  in  their  way  than  some  of  the 
music  of  Wagner ;  and  that  is  supposed  to  be  the  music 
of  the  future.  Music,  certainly,  develops  a  taste  for  it- 
self, and  changes  its  methods  in  every  age.  At  least 
such  has  always  been  its  history  in  the  past.  Is  it  the 
same  with  poetry?  There  are  sufficient  excellencies  in 
that  of  Tennyson  to  cause  it  to  deserve  to  live.  He  has 
been  the  favorite  poet  of  most  of  us,  and  has  exerted  in- 
comparably more  poetic  influence  upon  his  age  than  any 
of  his  contemporaries.  But  if  he  is  to  live,  will  it  be  in 
spite  of,  or  on  account  of,  faults  such  as  we  are  now  con- 
sidering? If  on  account  of  them,  and  if  future  poets  are 
to  imitate  and  develop  his  peculiarities,  what  is  to  become 
of  poetry  ?  Notice  what  some  of  his  followers  are  doing 


ORNAMENT  IN  POETRY.  315 

already.  This  is  from  Gerald  Massey's  New  Years  Eve 
in  Exile.  There  is  much  in  this  poet's  writings  that  is 
fine,  and  his  spirit  is  earnest,  but  these  are  the  very  rea- 
sons why  he  should  avoid  a  mixture  such  as  this  : 

But  God  's  in  heaven,  and  yet  the  Day  shall  dawn — 
Break  from  the  dark  upon  her  golden  wings, 
Her  quick,  ripe  splendors  rend  and  burn  the  gloom. 
Her  living  tides  of  glory  burst,  and  foam, 
And  hurry  along  the  darken'd  streets  of  night. 
Cloud  after  cloud  shall  light  a  rainbow-roof, 
And  build  a  Triumph-Arch  for  conquering  Day 
To  flash  her  beauty — trail  her  grandeurs  through, 
And  take  the  World  in  her  white  arms  of  light. 
And  Earth  shall  fling  aside  her  mask  of  gloom, 
And  lift  her  tearful  face.     O  there  will  be 
Blood  on  it  thick  as  dews  !     The  children's  blood 
Splasht  in  the  Mother's  face  !     And  there  must  be 
A  red  sunrise  of  retribution  yet  ! 

— New  Year's  Eve  in  Exile  :  Massey. 

Here  we  have  a  thing  that  comes  on  golden  wings  and 
bursts  her  living  tides,  that  is  at  once  quick  and  ripe,  and 
that  rends  and  burns,  and  this  thing  is  a  day  which  usually 
dawns  slowly  ;  we  have  also  clouds  that  light  a  rainbow,  and 
also  build  what  appears  to  be  a  similar  rainbow  Arch, 
which  they,  and  not  the  sun,  would  have  to  do,  if  it  were  to 
be  seen  in  the  east,  where  alone  the  day  could  trail  her 
grandeurs  through  it  at  sunrise.  Finally,  what  connection 
there  is  between  the  sentence  beginning,  "  The  children's 
blood,"  and  the  context  one  fails  to  recognize,  unless  in 
the  poet's  mind  the  subject,  which  is  the  Day,  has  become 
mixed  with  something  else.  It  has.  The  word  world, 
used  in  illustration,  has  made  him  think  of  earth;  but 
only  for  a  little.  Soon  the  word  blood  makes  him  think 
of  red  sunrise  ;  not  one  of  glory  now,  but — of  retribution. 

In  this  matter  of  mixing  metaphors,  however,  of   all 


316  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

poets  able  to  do  better  work,  Swinburne  caps  the  climax. 
In  the  following  single  sentence,  at  least  so  we  must  judge 
where  we  have  nothing  but  the  punctuation  marks  to  in- 
dicate the  sense,  we  are  told  of  fire  kissing  and  killing, 
which  is  like  light  riotous  and  red  flaming  round  bent — a 
word  suggested  by  the  round,  perhaps — brows ;  and  at 
the  same  time  the  fire,  or  the  brows,  or  Semiramis,  or 
the  dead  body — nobody  can  tell  which — is  kindling  like 
dawn  steely  snows  where  treading  feet  feel  snaky  lines  of 
blood  hiss,  in  which,  as  is  evident  (?),  they  resemble  creep- 
ing things  that  writhe  but  do  not  have,  as  one  might  sup- 
pose, stings  to  scare  adulterers  from  an  imperial  bed,  bowed 
— possibly  boughed  misspelt — with  a  load  of  lust.  After 
this,  the  same  blood,  or  something  else,  goes  on  to  chill, 
as  if  that  could  put  it  out,  a  gust  that  made  her  body  a 
fire,  which  now  seems  to  have  passed  over  the  whole 
body  from  the  brow  to  the  heel,  and  is  about  to  change  a 
high  bright  spirit  from  taint  of  fraud.  One  supposing  that 
no  practical  end  is  to  be  attained  by  trying  to  have  poets 
avoid  alloyed  illustrative  representation,  will  be  in  a  fair 
way  to  have  his  doubts  removed  after  he  has  made  one 
honest  attempt  to  put  into  plain  prose  these  remarkable 
adventures  of  the  amorous  fire  as  related  in  this  choice 
specimen  of  florid  poetic  art : 

As  fire  that  kisses,  killing  with  a  kiss, 

He  saw  the  light  of  death,  riotous  and  red, 
Flame  round  the  bent  brows  of  Semiramis 

Re-risen  and  mightier,  from  the  Assyrian  dead, 
Kindling,  as  dawn  a  frost-bound  precipice, 

The  steely  snows  of  Russia,  for  the  tread 
Of  feet  that  felt  before  them  crawl  and  hiss 

The  snaky  lines  of  blood  violently  shed 
Like  living  creeping  things 
That  writhe  but  have  no  stings 


ORNAMENT  IN  POETRY.  317 

To  scare  adulterers  from  the  imperial  bed 
Bowed  with  its  load  of  lust, 
Or  chill  the  ravenous  gust 
That  made  her  body  a  fire  from  heel  to  head  ; 
Or  change  her  high  bright  spirit  and  clear, 
For  all  its  mortal  stains,  from  taint  of  fraud  or  fear. 

— Song  for  the  Centenary  of  W.  S.  Landor. 

The  artistic  mistake  here,  just  as  in  the  case  of  that 
allied  to  the  "  far-fetched  simile,"  is  that  the  figure,  the 
design  of  which,  when  rightly  used,  is  to  represent,  does 
not  represent.  It  does  the  opposite.  Instead  of  making 
the  thought  more  concrete,  and  thus  giving  it  more  defi- 
niteness  of  form,  it  gives  it  indefiniteness. 

But  there  is  another  mistake  made  in  these  methods, 
which  is  psychological  as  well  as  artistic.  As  has  been 
seen,  in  all  of  these  cases  in  which  the  clearness  of  repre- 
sentation is  obscured  by  the  excess  of  it,  the  course  of  the 
thought  turns  from  the  main  subject,  as  if  the  writer  had 
forgotten  it,  while  going  on  to  develop  that  which  is  sug- 
gested by  the  illustration.  In  the  quotation  above  from 
Massey,  for  example,  it  is  easy  enough  to  see  that,  in  the 
fifth  line  from  the  last,  the  phrase  mask  of  gloom  suggested 
tearful  face,  and  this  again  dews,  and  this  blood,  and  this 
the  splashing  of  it,  and  all  these  things  together,  the  red 
sunrise  of  retribution.  In  the  quotation  from  Swinburne, 
beginning 

All  over  the  gray  soft  shallow, 

quoted  on  page  312,  we  hear  first  of  a  bird ;  this  sug- 
gests a  brood ;  this  suggests  world's  coursing  skies,  this 
suggests  blossoms,  this  flowers,  this  putting  flowers  in  a 
bosom,  etc.,  while,  in  the  last  passage  quoted  from  him, 
fire  suggests  light,  kindling  light  suggests  dawn,  dawn 
suggests  its  effects  on  snow,  snow  the  effects  of  feet  tread- 
ing it,  treading  suggests  crawling,  and  crawling  suggests 


3 1 8  POE  TRY  AS  A   REPRESENTA  TIVE  AR  T. 

creeping.  Worse  than  this,  certain  words  seem  suggested 
merely  by  their  sounds  which  alliterate  with  words  near 
them.  Now,  suppose  a  man  in  .conversation  were  to  let 
his  thoughts  run  on  in  this  way,  deviating  from  the  line 
of  his  argument  or  description,  whenever  he  happened  to 
strike  a  word  the  sense  or  sound  of  which  suggested 
something  different  from  that  of  which  he  started  out  to 
speak.  What  should  we  think  of  him  ?  One  of  two 
things, — either  that  he  was  insane,  or  had  a  very  poorly 
disciplined  mind.  Precisely  this  is  what  is  represented,  so 
far  as  any  thing  is  represented,  by  this  kind  of  poetry. 
Yet,  as  we  all  know,  the  finest  and  highest  art  must 
represent  the  finest  and  highest  efforts  of  the  finest  and 
highest  powers  of  the  mind.  If  this  be  so,  then  poetry 
modelled  upon  a  form  which  is  the  legitimate  and  natural 
expression  of  an  insane  or  a  poorly  disciplined  mind,  is  not 
poetry  of  the  finest  and  highest  order. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

REPRESENTATION   IN    POEMS    CONSIDERED    AS    WHOLES. 

Form  in  Words  and  Sentences — How  Visible  Appearances  give  an  Impres- 
sion of  Form — How  Movable  Appearances  do  the  Same — Consistency 
and  Continuity  in  a  Sentence  Necessary  to  give  it  an  Effect  of  Form — 
A  Poem  a  Series  of  Representations  and  of  Sentences — Must  have 
Manifest  Consistency  and  Continuity  giving  it  Manifest  Unity  and  Prog- 
ress, also  Definiteness  and  Completeness — Form  modelled  on  Direct 
Representation — How  Figures  can  be  carried  out  with  Manifest  Con- 
sistency and  Continuity — Complete  and  Broken  Figures — Examples  of 
Poems  with  Forms  modelled  on  the  Methods  of  Illustrative  Representa- 
tion— How  Excellence  of  Form  in  all  Poems  of  whatever  Length  should 
"be  determined — Certain  Poems  not  representing  Unity  and  Progress — 
Great  Poets  see  Pictures  when  conceiving  their  Poems  ;  Inferior  Poets 
think  of  Arguments — Same  Principles  applied  to  Smaller  Poems — The 
Moral  in  Poetry  should  be  represented  not  presented — Poetic  Excel- 
lence determined  not  by  the  Thought  but  by  the  Form  of  the  Thought, 
which  must  be  a  Form  of  Representation. 

"XTtTEhave  been  considering  the  representative  nature 
of  poetry.  It  remains  for  us  to  consider  the  rep- 
resentative nature  of  a  poem.  All  the  products  of  art, 
it  was  said  at  the  opening  of  this  work,  are  acknowledged 
to  have  what  is  termed  a  form.  In  what  sense  can  a 
poem  be  said  to  have  form,  and  what  is  necessary  to  cause 
the  form  to  be  what  it  should  be  ?  In  order  to  determine 
this,  let  us  go  back  for  moment  to  the  method  in  which 
thought  attains  form  in  ordinary  language  of  which  poetry 
is  a  development.  When  we  have  noticed  the  principles 

319 


320  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

that  operate  there,  we  shall  have  something  to  aid  us  in 
solving  our  question  here. 

These  principles  are  very  simple.  Sounds,  or  letters 
symbolizing  them  in  a  material  sphere,  represent  a  thought 
in  the  immaterial  mind,  and  thus  give  it  a  form  embodied 
in  a  word.  Two  or  more  words  put  together  give  form 
to  compound  words,  phrases,  or  sentences.  Let  us  exam- 
ine the  last  of  these  for  a  moment.  It  is  the  most 
complex  of  the  three,  yet  very  simple  as  compared  with 
the  collection  of  words'  in  a  whole  poem.  At  the  same 
time,  too,  it  is  the  most  complete  form  of  expression  of 
the  three — in  fact,  in  its  way  an  absolutely  complete  form 
of  expression.  A  whole  poem  is  more  complete  only  in 
the  sense  that  it  is  composed  of  a  large  number  of  these 
sentences.  As  mere  vehicles  of  expression,  therefore, 
every  principle  that  applies  to  them  applies  to  the  poem 
as  a  whole,  and  if  we  can  find  out  in  what  sense  they  can 
be  said  to  have  form,  we  can  have  something  to  guide  us 
in  determining  in  what  sense  a  poem  can  be  said  to  have 
form. 

What  do  we  mean,  then,  by  saying  that  a  sentence  has 
form  ?  If  it  were  a  visible  object  we  should  say  it  had 
form  in  the  degree  in  which  it  appeared  to  be  one  object, 
by  which  we  should  mean  in  the  degree  in  which,  owing 
to  the  effects  of  outlines,  colors,  or  some  other  features, 
every  part  of  the  object  seemed  to  be  connected  with 
every  other  part  of  it  throughout  the  entire  extent  of 
space  which  it  occupied.  A  sentence  is  not  visible  in 
space,  but  is  apprehended  in  time, — in  words  that  follow 
one  another.  Its  substance  is  movement,  and  if  we  apply 
to  it  the  same  criterions  as  those  usually  applied  to 
visible  objects,  changing  only  the  terms  that  are  necessary 
to  refer  to  it  as  an  object  whose  substance  is  movement, 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM   TO  POEMS.  321 

we  must  say  that  it  appears  to  have  form  in  the  degree  in 
which  it  appears  to  be  one  movement  by  which  we  mean 
in  the  degree  in  which  every  part  of  its  movement  seems 
to  be  connected  with  every  other  part  of  it,  and  this 
throughout  the  whole  extent  of  time  which  it  occupies. 
The  first  of  these  conditions,  when  every  part  of  the 
movement  seems  to  be  connected  with  every  other  part 
of  it,  gives  to  the  whole  the  effect  of  consistency.  The  sec- 
ond of  the  conditions,  when  this  connected  movement 
seems  to  extend  throughout  the  whole  time  occupied  by  it, 
gives  to  the  whole  the  effect  of  continuity.  In  a  perfect 
sentence,  consistency  is  manifest,  because  every  word  or 
clause  is  related  in  some  way  to  every  other ;  and  con- 
tinuity, because  every  word  or  clause  is  related  in  some 
way  to  a  subject  which  represents  the  beginning  of  a 
movement ;  to  a  predicate,  which  represents  the  continua- 
tion and  sometimes  the  end  of  the  movement ;  and  also, 
when  needed,  to  an  object,  which  represents  the  end  of 
the  movement.  It  is  for  these  reasons  that  a  perfect  sen- 
tence seems  to  us  to  have  form  :  it  has  consistency  and 
continuity. 

If  this  be  true  of  a  sentence,  which  is  a  series  of  words 
representing  thought,  why  should  it  not  be  true  of  a  poem, 
which  is  also  a  series  of  words  representing  thought  ? 
A  poem  is  made  up  of  series  of  sentences,  or,  as  we  have 
found,  of  series  of  representations,  some  of  them  continu- 
ing through  many  sentences.  If  the  poem,  as  a  whole, 
is  to  have  form,  and  one  that  can  be  readily  recognized, 
it  follows,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  its  different  sen- 
tences or  representations  of  movements  or  actions  must 
all  manifest  their  relationships  to  one  another,  thus  pro- 
ducing the  effect  of  consistency ;  and  also  their  relation- 
ships to  the  general  forward  movement,  thus  producing 
the  effect  of  continuity. 


322  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

From  its  very  nature  a  whole  poem  is  always  more  or 
less  complex  ;  and  the  human  mind  is  so  constituted  that 
one  can  never  understand  that  which  is  complex  until  it 
has  been  analyzed  sufficiently  to  make  possible  some  kind 
of  a  classification  of  its  parts.  For  this  classification  there 
is  needed  a  basis,  and  this  is  always  found  primarily  in 
some  one  feature  which  all  the  parts  possess  in  common, 
as  when  the  whole  family  of  birds  are  classed  together  be- 
cause they  all  have  feathers.  The  mind  cannot  understand, 
therefore,  that  consistency  exists  in  any  complex  series  of 
sentences  or  thoughts  represented  by  them,  unless  per- 
ceiving one  kind  of  movement  or  action  which  all  manifest ; 
nor  continuity  unless  perceiving  one  direction  which  all 
the  movements  or  actions  take.  Hence  it  is  that  the 
action  represented  in  art,  if  the  art-product  is  to  appear  t<? 
have  an  artistic  form,  must  be  characterized  by  what  are 
termed  unity  and  progress,  unity  being  the  result  of  effects 
produced  by  apparent  consistency,  and  progress,  of  the 
effects  of  apparent  continuity. 

Once  more,  unity  as  influenced  by  progress  in  an  art- 
product  renders  its  aesthetic  effects  clearly  distinguishable 
from  all  other  effects  produced  side  by  side  with  it.  In 
other  words,  progress  in  unity  gives  definiteness  to  form. 
On  the  other  hand,  progress  as  influenced  by  unity  in  an 
art-product  renders  its  aesthetic  effects  clearly  distinguish- 
able from  all  other  effects  produced  before  or  after  it, 
because  these  are  separated  from  it,  both  at  its  beginning 
and  at  its  end.  In  other  words,  unity  in  progress  gives 
completeness  to  form. 

A  poem  is  a  development  of  language,  and  language  is 
a  representation  of  thought,  and  thought  is  always  in 
motion.  Every  poem,  therefore,  must  represent  thought 
in  motion.  But  more  than  this,  it  must  manifest  unity. 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM   TO  POEMS.  323 

Therefore  it  must  represent  one  thought  to  which  all  other 
thoughts  that  it  contains  must  be  related  and  subordi- 
nated. More  than  this,  too,  it  must  manifest  progress. 
Therefore  it  must  represent  this  one  thought  as  moving 
in  one  direction,  as  having  one  end  toward  the  attainment 
of  which  all  the  movements  of  all  the  related  and  subor- 
dinated thoughts  of  the  entire  poem  tend. 

A  production  in  which  these  requirements  are  fulfilled, 
and,  for  reasons  given  on  the  last  page,  such  a  production 
only,  will  have  a  form  that  will  appear  to  be  definite  and 
complete. 

Now  let  us  examine  some  poems,  and  find  out,  if  we  can, 
how  far  they  fulfil  these  requirements.  Notice,  first,  the 
following  representation  of  a  very  common  thought  that 
comes  to  all  of  us  when  gazing  on  something  that  we  are 
not  to  see  again.  The  unity  of  the  poem  is  embodied  in 
the  idea  expressed  in  the  word  forever,  and  its  progress  in 
the  amplification  of  this  idea,  by  extending  it  successively 
to  the  river  as  it  flows  near  the  speaker  (first  stanza), 
away  from  him  (second  stanza),  and  with  other  surround- 
ings in  space  (third  stanza),  and  in  time  (fourth  stanza). 

Flow  down,  cold  rivulet,  to  the  sea, 

Thy  tribute  wave  deliver  : 
No  more  by  thee  my  steps  shall  be, 

Forever  and  forever. 

Flow,  softly  flow,  by  lawn  and  lea, 

A  rivulet  then  a  river  : 
Nowhere  by  thee  my  steps  shall  be. 

Forever  and  forever. 

But  here  will  sigh  thine  alder  tree, 

And  here  thine  aspen  shiver  ; 
And  here  by  thee  will  hum  the  bee 

Forever  and  forever. 


324  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

A  thousand  suns  will  stream  on  thee, 

A  thousand  moons  will  quiver  ; 
But  not  by  thee  my  steps  shall  be, 

Forever  and  forever. 

— A  Fare-well :   Tennyson. 

Better  examples  of  the  direct  representation  of  com- 
plete phases  of  action  are  the  following,  because  in  all  of 
them  the  unity  and  progress  are  more  apparent.  All  bring 
out  distinctly  a  single  idea,  and  this  is  unfolded  progres- 
sively without  a  word  at  the  beginning  or  end  or  in  the 
middle  not  necessary  to  complete  the  picture. 

Home  they  brought  her  warrior  dead  ; 

She  nor  swoon'd,  nor  utter'd  cry  : 
All  her  maidens,  watching,  said, 

"  She  must  weep  or  she  will  die." 

Then  they  praised  him,  soft  and  low, 

Call'd  him  worthy  to  be  loved, 
Truest  friend  and  noblest  foe  ; 

Yet  she  neither  spoke  nor  moved. 

Stole  a  maiden  from  her  place, 

Lightly  to  the  warrior  stept, 
Took  the  face-cloth  from  the  face  : 

Yet  she  neither  moved  nor  wept. 

Rose  a  nurse  of  ninety  years, 

Set  his  child  upon  her  knee — 
Like  summer  tempest  came  her  tears — 

"  Sweet  my  child,  I  live  for  thee." 

—  The  Princess  :   Tennyson. 

As  through  the  land  at  eve  we  went, 

And  plucked  the  ripened  ears, 
We  fell  out,  my  wife  and  I, 
O,  we  fell  out,  I  know  not  why, 

And  kiss'd  again  with  tears. 

For  when  we  came  where  lies  the  child 
We  lost  in  other  years, 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM   TO  POEMS.  325 

There  above  the  little  grave, 
O,  there  above  the  little  grave, 
We  kiss'd  again  with  tears. 

—  The  Princess  :   Tennyson. 

As  beautiful  Kitty  one  morning  was  tripping, 
With  a  pitcher  of  milk  from  the  fair  of  Coleraine, 

When  she  saw  me,  she  stumbled,  the  pitcher  it  tumbled, 
And  all  the  sweet  buttermilk  watered  the  plain. 

4 '  O  what  shall  I  do  now  ?  't  was  looking  at  you  now  ! 

Sure,  sure,  such  a  pitcher  I  '11  n'er  meet  again  ! 
'T  was  the  pride  of  my  dairy  ;  O'  Barney  M'Cleary  ! 

You  're  sent  as  a  plague  to  the  girls  of  Coleraine  !  " 

I  sat  down  beside  her, — and  gently  did  chide  her, 
That  such  a  misfortune  should  give  her  such  pain, 

A  kiss  then  I  gave  her, — before  I  did  leave  her, 
She  vowed  for  such  pleasure  she  'd  break  it  again. 

'T  was  hay-making  season — I  can't  tell  the  reason — 
Misfortunes  will  never  come  singly — 't  is  plain  ; 

For,  very  soon  after  poor  Kitty's  disaster, 
The  devil  a  pitcher  was  whole  in  Coleraine. 

— Kitty  of  Coleraine  :  C.  D.  Shanly. 

The  two  following  lyrics  are  still  more  effective,  for  the 
reason  that  they  reveal  still  more  clearly  the  characteristics 
which  we  are  now  considering.  Think  what  either  of  them 
would  be  aside  from  the  form  in  which  the  facts  in  them 
are  represented.  And  what  in  the  form  makes  it  so  effec- 
tive ?  What  but  its  concreteness,  revealed  through  the  con- 
sistency and  continuity,  the  unity  and  progress  that  char- 
acterize the  representation  ? 

*'  O  Mary,  go  and  call  the  cattle  home, 
And  call  the  cattle  home, 
And  call  the  cattle  home, 
Across  the  sands  o'  Dee  !  " 
The  western  wind  was  wild  and  dank  wi'  foam, 
And  all  alone  went  she. 


326  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  creeping  tide  came  up  along  the  sand, 
And  o'er  and  o'er  the  sand, 
And  round  and  round  the  sand, 
As  far  as  eye  could  see  ; 

The  blinding  mist  came  down  and  hid  the  land  : 
And  never  home  came  she. 

"  O  is  it  weed,  or  fish,  or  floating  hair — 
A  tress  o'  golden  hair, 
A  drowned  maiden's  hair — 
Above  the  nets  at  sea  ? 
Was  never  salmon  yet  that  shone  so  fair, 
Among  the  stakes  on  Dee." 

They  rowed  her  in  across  the  rolling  foam — 
The  cruel,  crawling  foam, 
The  cruel,  hungry  foam — 
To  her  grave  beside  the  sea  ; 

But  still  the  boatmen  hear  her  call  the  cattle  home 
Across  the  sands  o'  Dee. 

— 0  Mary,  Go  and  Call  the  Cattle  Home  :  Kingsley. 

Three  fishers  went  sailing  out  into  the  West, — 

Out  into  the  West  as  the  sun  went  down  ; 
Each  thought  of  the  woman  who  loved  him  the  best, 

And  the  children  stood  watching  them  out  of  the  town  ; 
For  men  must  work  and  women  must  weep  ; 
And  there  's  little  to  earn,  and  many  to  keep, 

Though  the  harbor  bar  be  moaning. 

Three  wives  sat  up  in  the  lighthouse  tower, 

And  trimmed  their  lamps  as  the  sun  went  down  ; 

And  they  looked  at  the  squall  and  they  looked  at  the  shower, 

And  the  night  rack  came  rolling  up,  rugged  and  brown  ; 

But  men  must  work,  and  women  must  weep, 

Though  storms  be  sudden,  and  waters  deep, 
And  the  harbor  bar  be  moaning. 

Three  corpses  lay  out  on  the  shining  sands 

In  the  morning  gleam  as  the  tide  went  down, 
And  the  women  are  watching  and  wringing  their  hands 

For  those  who  will  never  come  back  to  the  town  ; 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM   TO  POEMS.  327 

For  men  must  work  and  women  must  weep — 

And  the  sooner  it 's  over  the  sooner  to  sleep — 

And  good-by  to  the  bar  and  its  moaning. 

—  The  Fishermen  :  Idem. 

These  poems,  in  which,  as  must  have  been  noticed,  the 
representation  in  each  case  is  also  definite  and  complete, 
have  unity,  because  they  unfold  only  one  prominent  idea ; 
and  progress,  because  the  particulars  leading  up  to  the 
clearest  expression  of  this  idea  are  unfolded  successively 
and  logically — unfolded  in  most  of  them,  in  fact,  accord- 
ing to  the  method  of  the  climax. 

Now  notice  how  the  same  principles  apply  to  poems  in 
which  illustrative  representation  is  used.  This,  as  we 
have  found,  either  pictures  the  movements  of  the  mind 
through  the  operations  of  external  nature,  or  pictures 
the  latter  through  other  operations  of  external  nature 
analogous  to  them.  Direct  representation  is  developed 
from  the  methods  according  to  which  plain  language  is 
formed ;  illustrative  representation  from  those  according 
to  which  distinctively  figurative  language  is  formed.  In  the 
latter  some  one  process  or  order  of  events  is  represented 
in  words  that  image  another.  This  image  is  thoroughly 
intelligible  and  enjoyable  in  the  degree  in  which  its  out- 
lines are  definite  and  complete,  causing  the  form  to  appear 
single  and  unbroken,  in  which,  therefore,  the  analogy  be- 
tween the  two  things,  compared, — of  course,  in  the  brief, 
suggestive  way  that  appeals  best  to  the  imagination — is 
carried  out  with  consistency  and  continuity  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  In  fact,  the  fundamental  reason  why  similes 
and  metaphors,  when  far-fetched  or  mixed,  are  not  artistic, 
is  because,  on  account  of  too  much  or  too  little  of  the 
illustrative  element  in  them,  their  analogies  are  not  carried 
out  successfully.  For  a  good  illustration  of  how  they  can 


328  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

be  carried  out  successfully,  observe  the  following  from 
Mrs.  Spafford's  (Harriet  E.  Prescott)  Sir  Rohan  s  Ghost  : 

Sir  Rohan  had  a  ghost ;  not  by  any  means  a  common  ghost  that  appeared 
at  midnight  on  the  striking  of  a  bell,  and  trailed  its  winding  sheet  through 
the  upper  halls  nearest  the  roof,  but  a  ghost  that,  sleeping  or  waking,  never 
left  him — 

Now  notice  how  the  same  description  of  the  ghost,  as 
an  outward  apparition,  is  continued  in  order  to  represent 
its  influence  over  the  inward  states  and  whole  experience 
of  Sir  Rohan : 

a  ghost  whose  long  hair  coiled  round  and  stifled  the  fair  creations  of  his 
dreams,  and  whose  white  garments  swept  leprously  into  his  sunlight. 

A  sentence  or  series  of  sentences  in  which  there  is 
throughout  this  consistency  and  continuity  of  meaning  is 
artistic.  That  effort  of  Sir  Boyle  Roche  in  the  House  of 
Parliament,  in  which  he  exclaimed  :  "  I  smell  a  rat.  I  see 
him  floating  in  the  air.  I  will  nip  him  in  the  bud," — was 
not  artistic.  His  image  had  been  broken  even  before  he 
had  nipped  it. 

It  follows  from  what  has  been  said,  that  an  artistic 
poem,  constructed  according  to  the  methods  of  illus- 
trative representation,  must  be  characterized  throughout 
by  consistency  and  continuity.  So  far  as  possible,  the 
two  things  compared  must  be  alike  in  their  beginnings, 
middles,  and  ends ;  they  must  start,  move,  and  stop  when 
sustaining  analogous  relations. 

To  see  how  this  is  feasible,  notice  the  following  poem 
translated  from  the  German.  The  one  feature  of  ex- 
cellence in  it  is  the  fact  that  it  brings  out  distinctly 
and  completely  the  likeness  between  the  two  things  com- 
pared— i.  e.,  between  the  fate  of  a  woman  at  different 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM   TO  POEMS.  329 

periods  of  her  life  and  that  of  a  rose-bush  at  different 
seasons  of  the  year ;  in  the  one  case  by  words  like  child, 
maiden,  mother,  and  mound,  and  in  the  other  by  words 
like  buds,  blossoms,  leaves,  and  withered,  as  well  as  May  and 
autumn.  Because  these  different  stages  in  human  life  and 
natural  life  are  so  distinctly  and  completely  imaged,  the 
one  in  the  other,  none  of  us  can  fail  to  feel  the  representa- 
tive and,  in  connection  with  this,  the  artistic  and  aesthetic 
effects  of  the  poem. 

A  child  sleeps  under  a  rose-bush  fair. 
The  buds  swell  out  in  the  soft  May  air. 
Sweetly  it  rests  and  on  dream-wings  flies 
To  play  with  the  angels  in  paradise  : 
And  the  years  glide  by. 

A  maiden  stands  by  the  rose-bush  fair. 
The  dewy  blossoms  perfume  the  air. 
She  presses  her  hand  to  her  throbbing  breast, 
With  love's  first  wonderful  rapture  blest  : 
And  the  years  glide  by. 

A  mother  kneels  by  the  rose-bush  fair, 
Soft  sigh  the  leaves  in  the  evening  air. 
Sorrowing  thoughts  of  the  past  arise, 
And  tears  of  anguish  bedim  her  eyes  : 
And  the  years  glide  by. 

Naked  and  lone  stands  the  rose-bush  fair, 
Whirled  are  the  leaves  in  the  autumn  air, 
Withered  and  dead  they  fall  to  the  ground, 
And  silently  cover  a  new-made  mound  : 
And  the  years  glide  by. 

—  The  Rose-bush  :   Trs.  by  W.  Caldwell. 

Some  may  be  inclined  to  criticise  this  poem  on  the 
ground  that  the  words  quoted  a  moment  ago  indicating 
the  analogies  between  nature  and  life  by  which  its  form 
is  suggested  are  too  numerous,  leaving  too  little  to  the 


330  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

imagination,  and  giving  something  of  a  mechanical  effect 
to  the  whole.  This  criticism,  however,  need  not  be 
directed  against  the  method  in  general,  only  against  this 
particular  application  of  it.  Here  is  another  poem  con- 
structed upon  similar  principles.  Probably  the  same 
criticism  would  not  be  made  upon  it.  The  comparison  in 
it,  is  between  the  spring-time  of  nature  and  of  human  life, 
in  which,  as  is  intimated,  love  is  at  its  strongest.  The 
unity  of  thought  in  the  poem  and  its  progress,  not  so 
much  in  time  as  in  space,  i.  e.y  from  the  generic  to  the 
specific,  from  universal  material  nature  to  the  maiden, 
and  then  to  her  particular  feelings  toward  her  lover,  with 
just  enough  of  a  suggestion  of  the  disappointment  of  the 
writer  to  let  us  surmise  it, — is  all  very  effective. 

The  sun  had  scattered  each  opal  cloud, 

And  the  flowers  had  waked  from  their  winter's  rest, 

The  song  of  the  skylark  rang  free  and  loud, 

And  ah  !  there  were  eggs  in  the  swallow's  nest ! 

And  for  joy  of  the  spring  that  so  sweet  appears, 

I  sang  with  the  singing  of  twenty  years. 

Out  from  the  meadows  there  passed  a  maid, — 

How  can  I  tell  you  why  she  was  fair  ? 
To  see  was  to  love  as  she  bent  her  head 

Over  the  brooklet  that  murmured  there. 
As  I  gazed,  in  an  April  of  hopes  and  fears, 
I  dreamed  with  the  dreaming  of  twenty  years. 

Next, — for  I  saw  her  just  once  again, — 

Just  once  in  that  rare  spring-tide, — 
I  felt  a  heart-throb  of  vague  sweet  pain, 

For  I  noticed  that  some  one  was  by  her  side  ! 
And  I  turned,  with  a  passion  of  sudden  tears, 
For  they  loved  with  the  loving  of  twenty  years. 

—  Twenty  Years  :   Trs.  from  the  French  of  E.  Baraieau. 

In  the  following,  in  which  also  the  progress  is  in  space, 
and  from  the  generic  to  the  specific,  the  art,  or  the  effort 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM   TO  POEMS.  331 

to  give  form  to  the  thought,  is  less  apparent  than  in  the 
foregoing.  For  this  reason  it  is  more  artistic.  In  fact  it 
would  scarcely  be  possible  to  conceive  of  any  thing  more 
easy  and  graceful. 

Nature,  thy  fair  and  smiling  face 

Has  now  a  double  power  to  bless, 
For  't  is  the  glass  in  which  I  trace 

My  absent  Fanny's  loveliness. 

Her  heavenly  eyes  above  me  shine, 

The  rose  reflects  her  modest  blush, 
She  breathes  in  every  eglantine, 

She  sings  in  every  warbling  thrush. 

That  her  dear  form  alone  I  see 

Need  not  excite  surprise  in  any. 
For  Fanny  's  all  the  world  to  me, 

And  all  the  world  to  me  is  Fanny. 

—  To  Fanny  :  Horace  Smith. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  whatever  merit  the  following 
poem  has  is  owing  entirely  to  the  consistency  with  which 
the  comparison  of  the  human  body  to  a  house  is  carried 
out  from  beginning  to  end. 

I. 

Life  and  Thought  have  gone  away 

Side  by  side, 

Leaving  door  and  windows  wide ; 
Careless  tenants  they  ! 

II. 

All  within  is  dark  as  night : 
In  the  windows  is  no  light ; 
And  no  murmur  at  the  door, 
So  frequent  on  its  hinge  before. 

III. 

Close  the  door,  the  shutters  close, 
Or  through  the  windows  we  shall  see 


332  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  nakedness  and  vacancy 
Of  the  dark  deserted  house. 

IV. 

Come  away  ;  no  more  of  mirth 

Is  here  or  merry-making  sound. 
The  house  was  builded  of  the  earth, 

And  shall  fall  again  to  ground. 

V. 

Come  away  ;  for  Life  and  Thought 
Here  no  longer  dwell ; 

But  in  a  city  glorious — 
A  great  and  distant  city — have  bought 
A  mansion  incorruptible. 

Would  they  could  have  stayed  with  us  ! 

—  7 'he  Deserted  House  :   Tennyson. 

The  charm  of  each  of  the  following,  too,  is  owing  to  the 
completeness  of  the  parallelism  indicated  between  the 
main  thought  and  the  illustrating  thought,  both  of  which 
are  unfolded  with  unity  and  progress.  The  poems  would 
be  still  more  successful  artistically,  were  it  not  for 
the  alloyed  representation  attendant  upon  the  use  of  a 
word  like  lover,  in  the  third  stanza  of  the  first  poem,  and 
of  some  of  the  adjectives  in  the  selection  from  Bryant ; 
but  both,  as  they  are,  illustrate  well  the  principal  feature 
which  we  are  now  considering. 

Up  to  her  chamber  window 
A  slight  wire  trellis  goes, 
And  up  this  Romeo's  ladder 
Clambers  a  bold  white  rose. 

I  lounge  in  the  ilex  shadows, 
I  see  the  lady  lean, 
Unclasping  her  silken  girdle, 
The  curtain's  folds  between. 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM   TO  POEMS.  333 

She  smiles  on  her  rose-white  lover, 
She  reaches  out  her  hand 
And  helps  him  in  at  the  window — 
I  see  it  where  I  stand  ! 

To  her  scarlet  lip  she  holds  him, 
And  kisses  him  many  a  time — 
Ah  me  !  it  was  he  that  won  her 
Because  he  dared  to  climb  ! 

—Nocturne  :   T.  B.  Aldrich. 

A  brook  came  stealing  from  the  ground  ; 

You  scarcely  saw  its  silvery  gleam 
Among  the  herbs  that  hung  around 

The  borders  of  that  winding  stream, 
•The  pretty  stream,  the  placid  stream, 
The  softly  gliding,  bashful  stream. 

A  breeze  came  wandering  from  the  sky, 

Light  as  the  whispers  of  a  dream  ; 
He  put  the  o'erhanging  grasses  by, 

And  softly  stooped  to  kiss  the  stream, 
The  pretty  stream,  the  flattered  stream, 
The  shy  yet  unreluctant  stream. 

The  water,  as  the  wind  passed  o'er, 

Shot  upward  many  a  glancing  beam, 
Dimpled  and  quivered  more  and  more, 

And  tripped  along  a  livelier  stream  ; 
The  flattered  stream,  the  simpering  stream, 
The  fond,  delighted,  silly  stream. 

Away  the  airy  wanderer  flew 

To  where  the  fields  with  blossoms  teem. 

To  sparkling  springs  and  rivers  blue, 
And  left  alone  that  little  stream, 

The  flattered  stream,  the  cheated  stream, 

The  sad,  forsaken,  lonely  stream. 

The  careless  wind  came  never  back  ; 

He  wanders  yet  the  fields,  I  deem  ; 
But,  on  its  melancholy  track, 

Complaining  went  that  little  stream, 


334  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

The  cheated  stream,  the  hopeless  stream, 
The  ever-murmuring,  mourning  stream, 

—  The  Wind  and  the  Stream:    W.  C.  Bryant. 

Still  finer, — because  it  represents  a  grander  thought,  ap- 
pealing to  us  literally  with  the  voice  of  nature  and  of  the 
God  behind  nature,  as  well  as  because  the  comparison  in 
it  to  human  life  is  indicated  in  the  subtlest,  as,  also,  for  the 
imagination,  the  most  powerful  way, — is  the  following : 

The  moon  is  at  her  full,  and,  riding  high, 

Floods  the  calm  fields  with  light. 
The  airs  that  hover  in  the  summer  sky 

Are  all  asleep  to-night. 

There  comes  no  voice  from  the  great  woodlands  round 

That  murmured  all  the  day  ; 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  their  boughs,  the  ground  • 

Is  not  more  still  than  they. 

But  ever  heaves  and  moans  the  restless  Deep  ; 

His  rising  tide  I  hear, 
Afar  I  see  the  glimmering  billows  leap  ; 

I  see  them  breaking  near. 

Each  wave  springs  upward,  climbing  toward  the  fair 

Pure  light  that  sits  on  high — 
Springs  eagerly,  and  faintly  sinks,  to  where 

The  mother  waters  lie. 

Upward  again  it  swells  ;  the  moonbeams  show 

Again  its  glimmering  crest  ; 
Again  it  feels  the  fatal  weight  below, 
And  sinks,  but  not  to  rest. 

Again,  and  yet  again,  until  the  Deep 

Recalls  his  brood  of  waves  ; 
And  with  a  sullen  moan,  abashed,  they  creep 

Back  to  his  inner  caves. 

Brief  respite  !  they  shall  rush  from  that  recess 

With  noise  and  tumult  soon, 
And  fling  themselves,  with  unavailing  stress, 

Up  toward  the  placid  moon. 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM   TO  POEMS.  335 

O  restless  Sea,  that,  in  thy  prison  here, 

Dost  struggle  and  complain  ; 
Through  the  slow  centuries  yearning  to  be  near 

To  that  fair  orb  in  vain  : 

The  glorious  source  of  light  and  heat  mr.zt  warm 

Thy  billows  from  on  high, 
And  change  them  to  the  cloudy  trains  that  form 

The  curtain  of  the  sky. 

Then  only  may  they  leave  the  waste  of  brine 

In  which  they  welter  here, 
And  rise  above  the  hills  of  earth,  and  shine 

In  a  serene  r  sphere. 

—  The  Tides  :    W.  C.  Bryant. 

The  chief  criticisms  that  can  be  made  on  Bryant's 
poetry,  of  which  these  two  quotations  furnish  fair  speci- 
mens, are  the  tendencies  in  it  to  alloyed  representation 
already  mentioned,  and  to  slowness  of  movement.  The 
following,  however,  manifests  neither  of  these  character, 
istics;  and,  although  it  does  not  present  either  a  very 
great  or  an  original  thought,  being  evidently  suggested 
by  Goethe's  ErLKing,  it  presents  what  thought  it  has 
artistically,  and  in  strict  accordance  with  the  methods 
which  we  have  been  considering. 

"  O  father,  let  us  hence — for  hark, 

A  fearful  murmur  shakes  the  air  ; 
The  clouds  are  coming  swift  and  darlc ; — 

What  horrid  shapes  they  wear  } 
A  winged  giant  sails  the  sky  ; 
O  father,  father,  let  us  fly  ! " 

"  Hush,  child  ;  it  is  a  grateful  sound, 

That  beating  of  the  summer  shower  ; 
Here,  where  the  boughs  hang  close  around, 

We  '11  pass  a  pleasant  hour, 
Till  the  fresh  wind,  that  brings  the  rain, 
Has  swept  the  broad  heaven  clear  again." 


336  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

"  Nay,  father,  let  us  haste, — for  see 
That  horrid  thing  with  horned  brow, — 

His  wings  o'erhang  this  very  tree, 
He  scowls  upon  us  now  ; 

His  huge  black  arm  is  lifted  high  ; 
O  father,  father,  let  us  fly  !  " 

"  Hush,  child"  ;  but,  as  the  father  spoke, 

Downward  the  livid  firebolt  came, 
Close  to  his  ear  the  thunder  broke, 

And,  blasted  by  the  flame, 
The  child  lay  dead  ;  while  dark  and  still, 
Swept  the  grim  cloud  along  the  hill. 

— A  Presentiment  .*  Bryant. 

The  principles  thus  illustrated  measure  artistic  excel 
lence  in  all  poems  of  whatever  length.  Just  as  in  a  short 
poem,  so  in  a  long  one,  the  development  of  the  main  idea, 
whether  by  representing  what  is  said,  as  in  the  dramatic 
form,  or  what  is  done,  as  in  the  narrative  or  epic,  must  be 
consistent  and  continuous  throughout.  Every  poem,  as 
a  whole,  even  if  as  long  as  Othello,  Faust,  Paradise 
Lost,  or  The  sEneid,  must  furnish,  with  unity  and 
progress,  what  may  be  termed  a  complete  moving 
image  of  the  action  which  it  is  designed  to  represent. 
Othello,  for  instance,  gives  us  a  complete  view  of  the  suc- 
cessive stages  of  jealousy,  as  developed  both  in  a  frank, 
magnanimous  character  like  Othello,  and  in  a  deceitful, 
malicious  character  like  lago.  So  Paradise  Lost  gives 
us  a  complete  view  of  the  author's  theory  of  the  causes, 
character,  and  results  of  the  loss  of  paradise.  It  wor.ld  be 
a  misappropriation  of  time  in  this  place  to  present  a 
thorough  analysis  of  any  of  these  poems  in  order  to  prove 
this  statement.  Besides,  there  is  no  necessity  for  doing 
it.  Such  analyses  have  often  been  made,  and  the  truth  of 
the  statement  will  be  acknowledged  by  all  acquainted 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM  TO  POEMS.  337 

with  them.  The  difference,  therefore,  between  the  ability 
to  produce  a  long  poem  and  a  short  one  is  the  same  that 
exists  between  a  greater  and  smaller  degree  of  capacity  in 
other  departments, — a  difference  in  the  ability  to  hold  the 
thought  persistently  to  a  single  subject,  both  complicated 
and  comprehensive,  until  every  thing  in  it  has  been  classi- 
fied and  arranged  and  aimed,  in  accordance  with  one 
formative  conception. 

The  moment  that  we  try  to  do  so,  we  shall  be  able  to 
recall  numbers  of  poems,  great  and  small,  that  fail  to 
manifest  this  unity  and  progress.  All  such  works  as 
Thomson's  Seasons,  Cowper's  Task,  Campbell's  Pleas- 
ures of  Hope,  and  Wordsworth's  Excursion  must  be 
classed  with  these.  What  unity  and  progress  they 
reveal, — and  some  might  claim  these  qualities  for  them, — 
is  of  the  logical,  not  representative,  kind.  There  is 
in  them  no  consistency  nor  continuity  of  action.  As 
wholes  they  are  not  made  up  of  related  parts  of  single  on- 
ward movements.  In  fact,  they  scarcely  represent  move- 
ments at  all.  The  Excursion,  even  according  to  its  au- 
thor, was  planned  to  have  the  effect  of  a  cathedral  with 
one  central  nave  and  many  side  chapels.  The  plan  was 
only  too  faithfully  carried  out.  For,  although  composed 
in  words  that  ought  to  move,  it  is  an  embodiment  of 
slowness,  having  all  the  solidity  and  stolidity  of  a  struc- 
ture of  stone,  and  for  this  reason  few  read  it  through. 

None  of  these  poems  deserve  to  be  placed  in  the  highest 
rank,  because  they  lack  the  qualities  which,  as  we  have 
found,  must  characterize  the  products  of  an  art,  whose 
form  is  apprehensible  in  time.  They  lack  the  qualities 
because  they  lack  the  form  that  necessarily  would  show 
these ;  and  they  lack  the  form — i.  e.,  the  representative 
form, — because  their  authors  did  not  start  to  compose 


338  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

them  with  representative  conceptions.  When  Dante, 
Shakespear,  and  Milton  first  conceived  their  greatest 
works,  it  must  have  been  a  picture  that  appeared  to  loom 
before  their  imaginations.  It  is  doubtful  whether  Words- 
worth, Cowper,  and  Campbell  thought  of  anything  except 
an  argument. 

In  smaller  poems  similar  defects  are  not  so  noticeable  ; 
but  it  would  be  well  for  poetic  culture  if  they  were.  Long- 
fellow outgrew  the  period  of  his  Excelsior  ;  but  the  world 
that  welcomed  it  admiringly  when  it  first  appeared  might 
welcome  it  with  equal  rapture  now ;  yet  the  lack  of  repre- 
sentative truth  in  its  conception  makes  it  so  unreal  and 
absurd  that  nothing  but  repeated  experiences  at  school 
exhibitions  should  convince  one  that  it  can  be  read  or 
heard  with  a  sober  countenance.  Look  at  its  beginning : 

The  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast 
As  through  an  Alpine  village  passed 
A  youth,  who  bore,  'mid  snow  and  ice, 
A  banner  with  the  strange  device 
Excelsior  ! 

At  its  middle : 

"  O  stay,"  the  maiden  said,  "and  rest 
Thy  weary  head  upon  this  breast  !  " 
A  tear  stood  in  his  bright  blue  eye, 
But  still  he  answered  with  a  sigh, 
Excelsior  ! 

And  at  its  end  : 

There  in  the  twilight  cold  and  gray, 
Lifeless,  but  beautiful,  he  lay, 
And  from  the  sky,  serene  and  far, 
A  voice  fell  like  a  falling  star, 
Excelsior ! 

It  is  impossible  to  believe  that  the  series  of  events 
described  here  could  ever  have  been  perceived,  except, 
perhaps,  in  a  dream  ;  which  this  tale  does  not  purport  to 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM  TO  POEMS.  339 

represent.  Of  course  there  is  in  the  poem  an  underlying 
moral ;  but  this  could  have  been  brought  out  just  as  well, 
and  better,  in  connection  with  a  form  representative  of 
what  really  takes  place  on  the  earth.  The  following  is  a 
specimen  of  Longfellow's  more  artistic  method  : 

The  day  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary  ; 
It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary  ; 
The  vine  still  clings  to  the  mouldering  wall, 
But  at  every  gust  the  dead  leaves  fall, 
And  the  day  is  dark  and  dreary. 

My  life  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary  ; 

It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary  ; 

My  thoughts  still  cling  to  the  mouldering  Past, 

But  the  hopes  of  youth  fall  thick  in  the  blast, 

And  the  days  are  dark  and  dreary. 

Be  still,  sad  heart  !  and  cease  repining  ; 
Behind  the  clouds  is  the  sun  still  shining  ; 
Thy  fate  is  the  common  fate  of  all, 
Into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall, 
Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary. 

—  The  Rainy  Day  :  Longfellow. 

Even  in  the  last  stanza  of  this,  however,  some  would 
say  that  there  is  too  much  of  a  tendency  to  moralize. 
This  tendency  which  Longfellow  manifests,  in  common 
with  Whittier  and  most  of  our  American  poets,  is  some- 
thing that  of  course,  in  its  way,  is  inartistic ;  not  that  a 
poem  should  have  no  moral,  but,  as  has  been  said  before, 
that  this  should  be  represented  rather  than  stated.  But 
the  power  to  represent,  as  all  art  should  represent, — as 
well  as  the  artistic  sense  to  appreciate  such  a  representa- 
tion when  it  has  been  produced, — seems,  as  yet,  not  to 
have  been  fully  developed  among  us.  Most  of  us  appear 
to  think  that  thought  alone  constitutes  poetry,  or,  if  not 
this,  at  least  thought  in  connection  with  a  strong  and 
metrical  expression  of  it,  without  regard  to  other  features 


34O  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

necessary  to  render  its  character  in  all  respects  representa- 
tive. 

The  truth  is,  however, — and  this  is  the  truth  which  the 
whole  line  of  our  argument  has  been  intended  to  empha- 
size,— that  poetry  is  more  than  thought ;  it  is  more  even 
than  a  strong  and  metrical  expression  of  thought.  The 
mere  fact  that  a  girl  was  drowned  on  the  sands  of  Dee,  or 
that  three  fishermen  were  lost  at  sea,  is  not  enough  to  ac- 
count for  the  interest  that  we  take  in  Charles  Kingsley's 
O  Mary,  Go  and  Call  the  Cattle  Home,  and  The  Fishermen. 
It  is  his  poetry  that  interests  us  ;  and  by  his  poetry  we 
mean  the  representative  way  in  which  he  has  told  these 
tales.  So  with  reference  to  any  statements  of  facts  or 
opinions.  If  Wordsworth  had  said  that  Milton  had  a 
bright  intellect  and  lived  a  comparatively  solitary  life, 
few  would  have  found  his  words  particularly  interesting, 
or  noteworthy ;  but  when,  in  his  sonnet  on  that  poet,  he 
said  : 

Thy  soul  was  like  a  star  and  dwelt  apart, 

the  representative  nature  of  his  statement,  giving  it  form 
and  beauty — which  latter  exists,  if  at  all,  as  a  character- 
istic of  form, — made  his  expression  at  once  attractive 
and  fitted  it  to  be  remembered.  So,  again,  it  is  not 
Pope's  authority,  nor  the  thought  in  the  following  lines, 
which  gives  them  such  a  value  that  they  are  inserted  in 
every  book  of  quotations  ;  it  is  the  representative  form  in 
which  the  thoughts  are  expressed,  without  which  form, 
mere  statements  to  the  effect  that  order  must  characterize 
heaven,  or  that  wise  and  good  men  are  cautious,  would 
not  be  deemed  deserving  of  remembrance. 

Order  is  heaven's  first  law. 

— Essay  on  Man,  4. 


QUALITIES  GIVING  FORM  TO  POEMS.  341 

For  fools  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread. 

— Essay  on  Criticism ,  3. 
Damn  with  faint  praise. 

— Epis.  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot. 

Praise  undeserved  is  scandal  in  disguise. 

— Epis.  of  Horace  >  ii.,  I  ;  Trs. 

Honor  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise  ; 
Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honor  lies. 

— Essay  on  Man,  4. 

In  one  word,  then,  the  important  thing  that  needs  to  be 
borne  in  mind  in  judging  of  poetry,  is  that  it  is  an  art, 
and  partakes  of  the  nature  of  the  fine  arts ;  and  that,  as 
such,  its  one  essential  is  a  representative  form  appealing 
to  a  man  through  that  which  causes  him  to  admire  the 
beautiful.  Tennyson  has  expressed  this  truth  well  in  what 
he  calls  The  Moral  of  his  Day-Dream. 

So,  Lady  Flora,  take  my  lay, 

And  if  you  find  no  moral  there, 
Go,  look  in  any  glass  and  say, 

What  moral  is  in  being  fair. 
O  to  what  uses  shall  we  put 

The  wildweed-flower  that  simply  blows  ? 
And  is  there  any  moral  shut 

Within  the  bosom  of  the  rose  ? 

But  he  has  suggested  in  his  next  stanza  another  truth 
that  needs  to  be  considered  in  connection  with  the  last, 
before  all  the  facts  concerning  the  functions  of  poetry  in 
the  world  can  be  understood. 

But  any  man  that  walks  the  mead 

In  bud,  or  blade,  or  bloom,  may  find, 
According  as  his  humors  lead, 

A  meaning  suited  to  his  mind. 
And  liberal  applications  lie 

In  Art  like  Nature,  dearest  friend, 
So  't  were  to  cramp  its  use,  if  I 

Should  hook  it  to  some  useful  end. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  USEFUL  ENDS  OF  POETIC  REPRESENTATION. 

These  are  all  developed  from  Possibilities  and  Methods  of  Expression  un- 
derlying equally  the  Formation  of  Poetic  and  of  all  Language — Poetry 
forced  to  recognize  that  Nature  symbolizes  Processes  of  Thought — In- 
fluence of  this  Recognition  upon  Conceptions  of  Truth,  Human  and 
Divine,  Scientific  and  Theologic — And  its  Effects  upon  Feeling  and 
Action — Conclusion. 

PERHAPS  this  discussion  of  poetry  as  a  representa- 
tive art  can  be  brought  to  a  close  in  no  better  way 
than  by  dwelling  for  a  moment  upon  the  thought  sug- 
gested by  the  stanza  at  the  end  of  the  last  chapter. 
Poetry  is  not,  in  a  technical  sense,  a  useful  art,  yet  its 
forms  have  their  uses,  and  many  uses — as  many,  in  fact, 
as  have  the  forms  of  nature  itself,  which  poetry,  when  it 
fulfils  its  mission,^employs  in  its  representations.  To  give 
a  complete  list  of  these  uses  here  would  be  irrelevant.  It 
is  sufficient  to  suggest,  that  in  the  last  analysis  all  of  them 
are  developed  from  possibilities  and  methods  of  expres- 
sion, underlying  the  formation  of  all  language  but  es- 
pecially of  poetic  language. 

Language  involves,  as  we  have  found,  a  representa- 
tion of  mental  facts  and  processes  through  the  use  of 
analogous  external  facts  and  processes,  which  alone  are 
apprehensible  to  others,  and  which  alone,  therefore,  can 
make  others  apprehend  our  thoughts.  But  facts  and 
processes  fitted  to  furnish  such  representations  may  be 

342 


UTILITY  OF  POETIC  REPRESENTATION.  343 

perceived  on  every  side  of  us  in  the  objects  and  operations 
of  what  we  term  nature.  It  is  the  poet,  however,  who  is 
most  conscious  of  these  analogies,  for  he,  instead  of  ac- 
cepting those  noticed  by  others  and  embodied  in  conven- 
tional words,  is  constantly  seeking  for  new  ones  and  using 
these.  To_the  poet,  and  the  reader  of  poetry,  therefore, 
all  nature  appears  to  be,  in  a  peculiar  sense,  a  representa- 
tion, a  repetition,  a  projection  into  the  realm  of  matter,  of 
the  ^immaterial  processes  of  thought  within  the  mind. 
This7  as  I  interpret  it,  is  what  Wordsworth  meant  when 
he  said : 

I  have  learned 

To  look  on  nature  not  as  in  the  hour 
Of  thoughtless  youth,  but — 

because  finding  in  nature  the  representations  of  human 
thought — 

hearing  oftentimes 
The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity. 
— Lines  Composed  a  few  Miles  above  Tintern  Abbey. 

There  is,  accordingly,  a  literal  as  well  as  a  figurative 
sense,  in  which  the  poet 

Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  every  thing. 

— As  You  Like  It,  ii.,  i  :  Shakespear. 

Whatever  others  may  say  or  think, 

To  him  who  in  the  love  of  Nature  holds 
Communion  with  her  visible  forms,  she  speaks 
A  various  language. 
, ,  —  Thanatopsis  :  Bryant. 

In  a  true  sense  of  the  term  she  has  a  voice ;  and  she 
has  more  than  this  :  she  has  a  voice  which  says  something, 
which  imparts  definite  intelligence.  We  have  found  how 
m  every  process  in  one  department  of  nature,  the  mind  of 


344  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

poetry  finds  the  image  of  a  process  in  another  department 
of  nature.     "  Flower,"  says  Tennyson, — 

Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 
I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies  ; — 
Hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand, 
Little  flower — but  if  I  could  understand 
What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 
I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is. 

— Flower  in  the  Crannied  Wall. 

To  extend  this  thought,  here  is  a  rose-bush.  When  it 
begins  to  grow,  it  is  small  and  weak  and  simple.  As 
it  develops,  it  becomes  large  and  strong  and  complex. 
So  does  every  other  plant  in  nature  ;  so  does  a  man  ;  so 
does  a  nation  ;  so  does  all  humanity  ;  so,  as  far  as  we  can 
know,  does  the  entire  substance  that  develops  for  the 
formation  of  our  globe.  One  mode  of  operation,  one 
process,  we  find  everywhere.  If  this  be  so,  then  to  the 
ear  skilled  to  listen  to  the  voice  in  nature,  what  is  all  the 
universe  but  a  mighty  auditorium — in  which  every  tale  is 
re-echoed  endlessly  beneath,  about,  and  above,  through 
every  nook  of  its  grand  crypts  and  aisles  and  arches?  But, 
again,  if  all  created  things  bear  harmonious  reports  with 
reference  to  the  laws  controlling  them,  what  inference 
must  follow  from  this  ?  In  view  of  it,  what  else  can  a 
man  do  but  attribute  all  these  processes,  one  in  mode,  to 
a  single  source  ? — and,  more  than  this,  what  can  he  do  but 
accept  the  import  of  these  processes,  the  methods  indi* 
cated  in  them,  the  principles  exemplified  by  them,  as 
applicable  to  all  things, — in  other  words,  as  revelations  of 
the  universal  truth  ?  So  the  poet  finds  not  only  ttipdfhf •' 
in  nature,  but  also  truth.  ;  ' 

Once  more,  subtly  connected  with  these  facts,  are 
others.  If  nature  can  represent  the  thought,  frame  the 
language  of  the  human  mind, — why,  according  to  the 


UTILITY  OF  POETIC  REPRESENTATION.  345 

same  analogy,  can  it  not  represent  the  thought,  frame  the 
language  of  a  greater  Creative  Mind  ?  And  if  all  nature 
represent  the  same  kind  of  thought,  /.  e.,  analogous 
thought,  or  truth  that  is  harmonious,  why  is  not  this 
Creative  Mind  one  mind  ?  We  all  know  how  it  is  with 
man  when  he  represents  in  language  any  thing  true  with 
reference  to  his  inner  self.  Tal^e  that  experience,  in  some 
of  the  manifestations  of  which  religious  people  believe 
that  he  most  resembles  the  Unseen  One.  Think  how 
love,  which  is  begotten  often  in  a  single  glance,  and  is 
matured  in  a  single  thrill,  gives  vent  to  its  invisible  in- 
tensity. How  infinite  in  range  and  in  variety  are  those 
material  forms  of  earth  and  air  and  fire  and  water  which 
are  used  by  man  as  figures  through  which  to  represent 
the  emotion  within  him  !  What  extended  though  sweet 
tales,  what  endless  repetitions  of  comparisons  from  hills 
and  valleys,  streams  and  oceans,  flowers  and  clouds,  are 
made  to  revolve  about  that  soul  which,  through  their 
visible  agency,  endeavors  to  picture  in  poetry  spiritual 
conditions  and  relations  which  would  remain  unrevealed 
but  for  the  possibility  of  thus  indirectly  symbolizing  them. 
Now  if  this  be  so  with  human  love,  why  should  not  the 
Great  Heart  whose  calm  beating  works  the  pulses  of  the 
universe,  express  divine  love  through  similar  processes 
evolving  infinitely  and  eternally  into  forms  not  ideal  and 
poetic,  but  real  and  tangible, — in  fact,  into  forms  which 
we  term  those  of  nature.  This  is  the  question  with  which, 
wittingly  or  unwittingly,  poetry  and  poetic  faith  always 
have  confronted  and  always  must  confront  merely  natural 
science  and  scientific  skepticism.  Therefore,  Bailey  wrote 
the  truth,  when  he  said 

Poetry  is  itself  a  thing  of  God — 

He  made  his  prophets  poets,  and  the  more 


346  POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 

We  feel  of  poesy,  do  we  become 

Like  God  in  love  and  power. 

— Festus. 

This  interpretation  of  the  meaning  of  nature,  natural 
and  human,  by  those  who  have  learned  to  interpret  it, 
while  striving  to  have  it  convey  their  own  meanings,  lies 
at  the  basis  of  all  the  practical  uses  of  poetry.  Therefore 
it  is  that  its  products  bring  'with  them  an  atmosphere 
consoling  and  inspiring,  both  enlightening  and  expanding 
the  conceptions  and  experiences  of  the  reader.  Just  as 
each  specific  application  of  Christianity, — all  its  warnings, 
consolations,  and  encouragements,  which  develop  purity 
within  and  righteousness  without,  in  the  individual,  in 
society,  or  in  the  state,  spring  from  the  one  general  con- 
ception of  universal  and  divine  love  manifested  in  the 
form  of  Christ,  so  do  all  the  specific  applications  of 
poetry  spring  from  the  one  general  conception  of  universal 
and  divine  truth  manifested  through  the  forms  of  ma- 
terial and  human  nature.  When  each  of  us  can  say  with 
Wordsworth — 

I  have  learned 

To  look  on  nature,  not  as  in  the  hour 
Of  thoughtless  youth,  but  hearing  oftentimes 
The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity, 

Then  too  we  may  be  able  to  add  with  him — 

And  I  have  felt 

A  presence  that  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 
Of  elevated  thoughts  ;  a  sense  sublime 
Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 
Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean,  and  the  living  air, 
And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man  : — 
A  motion  and  a  spirit,  that  impels 
All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 
And  rolls  through  all  things. 

— Lines  Composed  a  few  Miles  above  Tintern  Abbey* 


INDEX. 


Abou  Ben  Adhem,  216. 

Abruptness,  eloc.  and  poetic,  82-88. 

Accent,  how  marks  for,  read  in 
Greek  poetry,  107  ;  relation  of,  to 
regularity  of  effect,  82-88  ;  to 
loudness  and  softness,  50-56 ; 
what  different  kinds  represent  in 
elocution,  32  ;  in  poetic  measures 
which  they  determine,  57-81  ; 
source  of  English  rhythm  and 
tunes  of  verse,  27,  104-114. 

Adams,  S.  F.,  74. 

Addison,  154,  203,  259,  288. 

Admiration.     See  Delight. 

Affirmation,  how  represented,  92. 
See  Assurance,  Dictation,  Posi- 
tiveness,  etc. 

Afternoon  at  a  Parsonage,  159. 

Agreement  as  a  factor  in  forming 
language,  u,  174. 

Alcaic  verse,  21. 

Aldrich,  T.  B.,  230,  333. 

Alexander's  feast,  101. 

Alexander,  J.  W.,  79. 

Allegorical  poetry,  277,  309. 

Allegory,  figure,  200. 

Allen,  Grant,  20,  189. 

Alliteration,  what  it  represents,  116. 

Alloy,  212. 

Alloyed  representation,  212,  262- 
318  ;  direct,  264  ;  genesis  of,  262- 
277  ;  illustrative,  265  ;  is  short- 
lived, 305. 

All  's  well  that  ends  well,  94. 

Alteration  of  words,  157. 

Amazement,  128-149. 

American  flag,  the  141. 

Amphibrach  metre,  60,  70. 

Ancient  Mariner,  77,  237. 

Annabel  Lee,  70. 


Anticipation,  how  represented,  92, 
109-114. 

Antithesis,  196. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra,  292. 

Aphaeresis,  158. 

Apocope,  158.  ' 

Apophasis,  196. 

Apostrophe,  196. 

Arbitrary  symbols  and  words,  174. 

Aristotle,  25,  31. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  48,  222,  229. 

Arts,  all  representative,  3,  4  ;  de- 
veloped according  to  principle  of 
comparison,  27. 

Aspiration,  metre  representing,  65, 
67. 

Association,  its  influence  in  deter- 
mining meanings  of  phrases,  164, 
180-185  >  in  forming  words  from 
sounds,  5-7 ;  in  forming  new 
words  from  old  words,  174,  175  ; 
in  making  words  unpoetic  and  po- 
etic, 187-193  ;  and  language  plain, 
195. 

Assonance,  what  it  represents,  116. 

Assurance,  how  represented,  62-64, 
71,  112-114. 

Audley  Court,  269. 

Aurora  Leigh,  237. 

Autumn,  299. 

Aux  Italiens,  86,  244. 

Awe,  how   represented,    128,     131, 

136-149- 
Aytoun,  51. 

Bacon,  137. 
Bagehot,  273. 
Bailey,  2,  345. 
Bains  Carew,  78. 
Barateau,  330. 


347 


343 


POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 


Barbara  Frietchie,  84,  133. 

Barton,  67. 

Battle  of  Ivry,  49,  77. 

Bayley,  119. 

Beecher,  H.  W.f  299,  300. 

Bells,  The  ,  143,  169. 

Bells  of  Shandon,  85,  112. 

Beppo,  85. 

Bernard,  79. 

Bertha  in  the  Lane,  167. 

Bigelow  Papers,  79,  160. 

Bird  Let  Loose,  The,  234. 

Birthday  Ode,  101. 

Bishop  of  Rum-ti-Foo,  94. 

Black,  W.,  191. 

Black  Regiment,  no.     , 

Boadicea,  9. 

Boker,  no. 

Botanic  Garden,  276. 

Break,  break,  break,  221. 

Breathing,  and  length  of  line,  25. 

Breton,  N.,  106. 

Bridge  of  Sighs,  72,  114. 

Broadswords  of  Scotland,  75. 

Bristowe  tragedy,  157. 

Brooke,  259. 

Brown,  M.  T.,  15,  17. 

Browning,  Mrs.  E.  B.,  40,  in,  159, 

167,  237. 
Browning,  R.,  9,  46,    53,   73,    no, 

114,  131,  132,  139,  148,  163,   164, 

165,  170,  201,  304,  309-311. 
Bryant,  W.  C.,  see  Iliad,  230,  334, 

335,  336,  343- 
Burns,  144,  158,  159,  224. 
Byron,  80,  85,  91,    130,    139,    147, 

204,  207,  302. 
By  the  North  Sea,  170. 

Caesura,  26,  39. 

Caldwell,  W.,  329. 

Callanan,  J.  J.,  69. 

Campbell,  87,  101,  105,    110,    in, 

"6,  133,  337,  338. 
Captivity,  The,  101. 
Caractacus,  67. 
Carillon,  63,  79,  86,  in. 
Carlyle,  302. 
Cataract  of  Lodore,  88. 
Cato,  259,  288. 
Chapman,  138. 
Charge,  Light  Brigade,  71,  84,  no. 


Chatterton,  157. 

Chaucer,  194. 

Chesterfield,  14. 

Childe  Harold,  80,  139,  204. 

Children  of  Lord's  Supper,  47. 

Christabel,  45,  81. 

Choree,  63. 

Churchill,J.  W.,  15. 

Classic,  metres,  29,  30 ;  historical 
development  of  Greek  poetry,  22  ; 
representation  pure,  240-261, 
263. 

Climax,  196,  284. 

Cloud,  The,  76,  80,  104,  105. 

Coleridge,  H.,  302. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  45,  77,  81,  191, 
237,  302. 

Coles,  A.,  64. 

Columbus,  Voyage  of,  133. 

Come  Rest  in  this  Bosom,  113. 

Complaint,  metre  representing,  65, 
66. 

Comus,  306,  313. 

Comparison,  principle  of,  at  the 
basis  of  all  art,  27  ;  in  forming 
words,  8,  174,  175,  187  ;  in  de- 
termining meaning  of  phrases, 
180-185  ;  words  formed  from, 
not  necessarily  poetic,  186,  208  ; 
but  are  figurative,  195  ;  how  com- 
parisons are  used  appropriately  in 
poetry,  190,  206,  225-239,  260, 
265-270,  281-284,  287-295,  299- 
307  ;  how  inappropriately,  190, 
200-203,  271,  272,  296-318. 

Completeness  in  form,  322—327. 

Comus,  306,  313. 

Conclusive  effects.  See  Assurance, 
Positiveness,  etc. 

Concord  Monument,  Hymn  at  com- 
pletion of,  236. 

Confidence.  See  Assurance,  Posi- 
tiveness, etc. 

Consistency  in  form,  321-327. 

Contempt,  how  represented,  128, 
148,  149. 

Continuity  in  form,  321-327. 

Coriolanus,  129,  138,  162,  166. 

Courage.     See  Determination. 

Course  of  Time,  163. 

Cowley,  159. 

Cowper,  70,  297,  337,  338. 


INDEX. 


349 


Crabbe,  286,  287,  294. 
Cranch,  227. 
Cupid  and  Psyche,  219. 
Cymbeline,   54,  166. 

Dactyl,  60,  72. 

Dance  and  poetry,  22,  95. 

Dante,  155,  194. 

Darkness,  147. 

Darwin,  C.,  144. 

Darwin,  E.,  156,  276. 

Davis,  T.,  113. 

Day  Dream,  The,  132,  341. 

Definiteness  in  form,  322-327. 

Delaumosne,  17. 

Delight,  how  represented,    72,   82, 

86,  127,  128,  132-149. 
Delsarte,  17. 
Decisiveness,  how  represented,  62- 

67,  92,  113. 
Deserted  Village,  27. 
Deserted  House,  332. 
Descriptive   poetry,    203-207,    209- 

277,    284-307  ;    referring   to   nat. 

scenery,     284-289,    293-299  —  to 

persons,  288,  291. 
Despondency,  229. 
Determination,  metre  representing, 

65-67,  71,  72,  109-113,   128,  133- 

149. 
Dictation,   metre   representing,  62— 

64,  70-72,  113. 
Didactic  poetry,  278-292. 
Dies  Irse,  64. 
Diiambic  metre,  61,  77. 
Diinitial  metre,  61,  77. 
Dimond,  69. 
Dionysius,  64. 
Discoursive  elocution,  33. 
Diterminal  measure,  61,  77. 
Ditrochaic  measure,  61,  77. 
Divided,  159. 
Dobell,  84. 
Donders,  98. 
Dora,  264. 
Douglas,  288. 
Drake,  141. 
Drama  of  Exile,  167. 
Dramatic  elocution,  33. 
Dream  of  Eugene  Aram,  131. 
Dryden,  101,  155,  156,  157,  259. 
Duration,  elocutionary,  and  what  it 


represents,    33-38  ;     poetic,    and 
what  it  represents,  38-49. 

Dyer,  87. 

Dying  Christian  to  his  Soul,  121 

Earl  o'Quarter-Deck,  153. 

Earthly    Paradise,     219,    233,    249, 

289. 

Eden,  Language  of,  u. 
Ejaculations,  influence  in  formation 

of  language,  5,  n,  174. 
Ejaculatory  tendency  in   elocution, 

33- 

Elegant  extracts,  216,  239. 

Elegy,  Gray's,  42,  137. 

Ellen  Mcjones  Aberdeen,  52. 

Ellipsis,  161. 

Elocution,  influence  in  language, 
1 8 — in  poetry,  21  ;  its  elements 
classified,  32-36  ;  discoursive  33  ; 
dramatic,  33. 

Eloquence  of  thought,  metre  repre- 
senting, 68,  74,  86  ;  quality,  127. 

Emerson,  83,  236,  302. 

Emotive  tendency  in  forming  lan- 
guage, 13  ;  in  character,  14 ;  in 
elocution,  35  ;  in  duration,  44  ; 
in  force,  50,  58,  82-87  ;  in  pitch, 
90-95,  115  ;  in  quality,  126-149, 
203-207,  265-267. 

Emphasis,  as  influenced  by  rhymes, 
120.  See  Accent,  Force,  Stress. 

Enallage,  165. 

End-cut  words,  158. 

End-stopped  lines,  41. 

English,  Metrical  possibilities  of,  30. 

Enthusiasm,  how  represented,  72, 
128. 

Enoch  Arden,  272. 

Epigram,  Pope,  239. 

Epilogue,  Browning,  132 ;  Swin- 
burne, 87,  146. 

Epistle,    An,    310 ;     to  Arbuthnot, 

34i. 

Epistles  of  Horace,  341. 
Essay  on  Criticism,  44,  55,  341  ;  on 

Man,   1 20,  340,  341  ;   on   Satire, 

156. 

Evangeline,  76,  114,  271,  272. 
Evelyn  Hope,  73. 
Evening  on  the  Broads,  311,  317. 
Everett,  E.,  299 


350 


POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 


Eve   of   St.    Agnes,    152,   153,   163, 

167. 

Eve  of  St.  John,  122. 
Excelsior,  338. 
Excursion,  26,  270,  281,  337. 
Exile  of  Erin,  no. 
Explanatory  alloy,  279-307. 

Faerie  Queen,  40,  138,  142,  143. 

Fairies'  song,  78. 

Falconer,  298. 

Fanny,  To,  331. 

Farewell,  A.,  324. 

Farrer,  6. 

Feeling,  how  represented,  12-18, 
35  ;  how  different  kinds  repre- 
resented,  127-149.  See  Emotive. 

Feet,  Eng.  and  classic,  how  pro- 
duced, 28  ;  classification  of  Eng- 
lish, 60.  See  Measures. 

Felise,  144. 

Ferdinando  and  Elvira,  41,  52,  114. 

Festus,  2,  346. 

Figurative  language,  195-207,  228  ; 
when  to  be  used,  206,  265  ;  when 
poetic  and  representative,  and 
when  not  so,  208-212,  293-318. 
See  Indirect  and  Illustrative  Rep- 
resentation. 

Figures  of  rhetoric,  not  always  rep- 
resentative, 195-197,  265  ;  when 
representative,  197-200. 

First  Kiss,  105. 

Fishermen,  The,  327. 

Fisher's  Cottage,  221. 

Flower  in  Crannied  Wall,  344. 

Force,  elocutionary,  33,  50  ;  what 
it  represents,  34,  35  ;  its  kinds, 
50  ;  degrees  of,  in  elocution  and 
poetry,  51-56  ;  gradations  of,  57- 
81  ;  regularity  of,  82-88  ;  signifi- 
cance of  metres  determined  by 
it,  57-81. 

Form  in  words  and  sentences,  320  ; 
in  poems,  322-341  ;  when  mod- 
elled on  direct  representation,  323 ; 
on  illustrative  representation,  327. 

Fra  Lippo  Lippi,  311. 

French  language,  24,  191,  192. 

Fright,  how  represented,  127-149. 

Front-cut  in  words,  158. 

Frothingham,  48. 


Gardener's  Daughter,    43,  287,  291^ 

Garden  of  Cymodoce,  116. 

Gathering  Song,  71. 

Gentle  Alice  Brown,  99. 

Gerhardt,  79. 

Gilbert,  30,  41,  52,  78,  94,  114,  160,, 

223. 

Glimpses  of  the  War,  311. 
Glorious  things  of  thee  are  spoken, 

65- 
Goethe,    48,    124,    194,    248,    302, 

335- 

Golden  Legend,  63. 

Golden  Year,  283. 

Goldsmith,  27,  101,  121,  184. 

Good  Old  Plow,  76. 

Goose,  Mother,  29. 

Gougaune  Barra,  69. 

Go  where  glory  waits  thee,  62. 

Greek,  development  of  its  poetic 
forms,  22  ;  direct  representation 
in  tragedies,  267  ;  how  accents 
pronounced  in  reading  verse,  107  ; 
metres,  29,  30,  60-8 1.  See  Clas- 
sic and  Homer. 

Grief,  metre  representing,  73.  See 
Pathos. 

Growth  of  the  legend,  307. 

Guest,  45,  137. 

Guttural,  meaning  of,  elocutionary 
and  poetic,  127-149. 

Gradation,  116.  See  Force  and 
Stress. 

Gray,  42,  137,  144. 

Grant,  86. 

Halcro's  verses,  85. 

Hamilton,  Sir  W.,  279. 

Hamlet,  207,  219,  290,  313. 

Hammond,  117. 

Harrington,  216. 

Hawtrey,  49. 

Heine,  220. 

Hegel,  17. 

Helmholtz,  98. 

Henry  VIII.,  27,  41  ;  I  Henry  IV., 
83,  143,  207,  291  ;  2  Henry  IV., 
138  ;  Henry  V.,  166,  167 ;  2 
Henry  VI.,  142,  236  ;  3  Henry 
VI.,  234- 

Heretic's  Tragedy,  131. 

Herder,  7. 


INDEX. 


351 


Hermann  and  Dorothea,  48,  248. 

Herrick,  in. 

Hesitation,  in  sense  of  doubt,  92, 

113,  123. 
Heyse,  10. 
Heywood,  167. 
Hexameter,  Classic  and  English,  47, 

76. 

Hiawatha,  63,  166. 
High  tide,  167. 

History  English  Rhythms,    45,  137. 
Hogg,  100. 
Holmes,  O.  W.,  3. 
Holy  Cross  Day,  9,  148. 
Home,  259,  288. 
Homer,  46,  47,  155,   193,   205,  207, 

216,  217,  232,  235,    236,  240-261, 
284,     294  ;      his      representative 
methods,  240-261. 

Homeric  verse,  21. 

Horror.   See  Awe. 

Hood,  72,  76,  114,  131. 

Hope.   See  Anticipation. 

How  they  brought  the  good  news, 

9,  46,  no. 
Hugo,  236. 

Humboldt,  W.  von,  248. 
Hunt,  L.,  78,  215. 
Hunting  song,  51. 
Hymn  on  the  Nativity,  159,  168. 
Hyperbaton,   154. 
Hyperbole,  200. 
Hyperion  155. 

Iambic,  or  Iambus,  60,  67. 

Idyls  of  King,  87,  236. 

Iliad,   Bryant's  translation,  205,207, 

217,  232,  236,  242,  246,  247,  251- 
256,    259,    260,    294  ;  Hawtrey's 
49  ;  Pope's  42,  54. 

Illustrations,  why  used,  206,  226, 
265,  290  ;  when  not  representa- 
tive, 293-318.  See  Figurative  Lan- 
guage, and  Representation,  Illus- 
trative and  Indirect. 

I  love  my  Jean,  222. 

II  Penseroso,  55,  144. 
Imagery,  196. 

Imitative  principle,  in  forming  lan- 
guage, 7-11  ;  in  elocution,  34  ; 
in  elocutionary  duration,  37-49  ; 
force,  51-56  ;  accent  and  metre, 


80-88  ;  tunes  of  verse,  94-102, 
115-120  ;  in  letter  sounds,  128- 
149. 

Important  ideas,  how  represented  in 
elocution  and  poetry,  38,  39,  41- 
49,  52-56,  79-81,  90-92,  115-121, 
133,  139-142. 

In  a  Year,  53. 

Indignation.     See  Contempt. 

Inflections,  elocutionary,  90-94 ; 
poetic,  103-125. 

Ingelow,  J.,  156,  159,  163,  166,  167. 

Ingoldsby  Legends,  100. 

In  Memoriam,  in,   123. 

Insertion  of  useless  words,  152. 

Instinctive  tendency,  in  character, 
14  ;  in  elocution,  35  ;  in  ejacula- 
tory  expression,  14-17  ;  informing 
through  association  words  from 
sounds,  5  ;  new  words  from  old 
words,  175  ;  in  making  represen- 
tation direct,  230 ;  representing 
what  in  duration,  37,  in  force,  50, 
58-68,  82  ;  in  pitch,  90-93  ;  in 
quality,  127. 

Interjection,   196. 

Interrogation,  196. 

Intonations,  representative  charac- 
ter of,  19,  88-125  ;  physical  rea- 
son for,  20. 

Inversion  of  words,   154. 

Irony,  196. 

Is  there  for  honest  poverty,  158. 

Jebb,  67. 

John,  King,  124,  125. 

Jonson,  263. 

Julius  Caesar,  134,  155,  218. 

Keats,  152,  153,  155,  163,   167. 
Key,  musical,  high  or  low  elocution- 
ary and  poetic,  89-102. 
Key,  F.  S.,  75. 

Kingsley,  224,  235,  326,  327,  340. 
Kirkham,  51. 

Kiss,  The,  in  ;  The  First,  in. 
Kitty,  86  ;  of  Colraine,  325. 

Lady  of  the  Lake,    100,   145,  162, 

163,  167,  258. 
L'Allegro,  99,  137,  144. 
Lament,  159. 


352 


POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 


Landor,  Song  for  Centenary  of,  317. 

Lanier,  93. 

Language,  plain  and  figurative,  195— 
207  ;  poetry  an  artistic  develop- 
ment of,  4 ;  how  it  represents 
thought  in  single  words,  4—11  ; 
and  processes  of  thought  in  succes- 
sive words,  12,  180-185,  320-333. 

Latin.   See  Classic. 

Lear,  King,  139,  141,  146,  307. 

Le  Byron  de  nos  Jours,  163. 

Leland,  221. 

Lessing,  251. 

Letter  from  Italy,  203  ;  Letters,  83. 

Lewis,  100. 

Life  Drama,  199,  230,  274,  275. 

Line,  length  of  exhalation,  25-27  ; 
end  of,  representing  what  when 
accented  and  unaccented,  104-125; 
when  masculine  or  feminine,  104- 
114,  118-125  ;  end-stopped  and 
run-on  lines,  41  ;  inartistic  end- 
ings, 40  ;  rhyme  and  blank  verse, 
118-125. 

Little  Mattie,  40. 

Lochinvar,  39,  46,  HO. 

Lockhart,  75. 

Locksley  Hall,  40,  85,  112,  203, 
282,  313. 

Longfellow,  31,  47,  63,  76,  79,  86, 
in,  114,  152,  157,  166,  229,  231, 
271,  338,  339- 

Lord  of  Burleigh,  154. 

Lord  of  the  Isles,  153. 

Lost  Love,  The,  121. 

Lotus  Eaters,  55,  284. 

Loudness,  how  represented  in 
poetry,  51-55. 

Louse  on  Lady's  Bonnet,  224. 

Love  divine  all  loves  excelling,  119. 

Lover's  Journey,  286. 

Lovers  of  Gudrun,  232,  248. 

Love's  Labor  Lost,  117,  191. 

Love's  Philosophy,  85. 

Lowell,  79,  160,  303,  307. 

Lute  Song,  116. 

Lytton  86,  244. 

Macaulay,  49,  77. 

Macbeth,  J.  W.  V.,  198  ;  The  play, 

129,  130,  131,  140  ;  142,  158,  227, 

238- 


MacDonald,  153. 

Macgregor's  Gathering,  76. 

Machiavelli,  14. 

Mad  Dog,  Elegy  on,  121. 

Madoc  in  Wales,  285. 

Mahogany  tree,  83. 

Mahony,  F.,  85,  112. 

Maniac,  100. 

Manly  Heart,   159. 

Man  who  never  laughed  again,  The 

154,  159- 

Marino  Faliero,  130. 

Marmion,  no,  145. 

Martineau,  J. ,  299. 

Massey,  G.,  53,  i59>  l63,  3",  3*5, 
317. 

Master  Hugues,  114. 

Maud,  39,  54,  66,  129,  130,  238. 

McMaster,  141. 

Meanings  of  elocutionary  and  poetic 
forms,  32-149  ;  duration,  37-50  ; 
force,  50-88  ;  inflections,  melody, 
pitch,  tunes  of  verse,  89-125  ; 
the  different  poetic  metres,  41-49, 
60—68  |  of  words  as  developed  by 
association  and  comparison,  in 
sounds,  4-9,  126-149,  150-172  ; 
in  phrases,  164,  180-185 ;  in 
spiritual  as  contrasted  with  ma- 
terial applications,  176,  228. 

Measures,  blending  of  different,  to 
prevent  monotony,  75  ;  to  repre- 
sent movements,  38—49,  79~88  ; 
classification  of  English,  and  their 
classic  analogues,  what  each  rep- 
resents, 58-81  ;  compound,  6l, 
71  ;  di-initial,  61,  77  ;  di-terminal, 
61,  77  ;  double,  60,  62-67  ;  initial, 
60,  62,  70  ;  median,  60,  68  ;  pa- 
thetic, 72,  73  ;  quadruple,  49,  61, 
77  ;  terminal,  60,  65,  74  ;  triple, 
46-49,  60,  68-8 1. 

Melody,  elocutionary,  musical,  and 
poetic,  90-125. 

Mercenary  Marriage,  A,  207. 

Merkel,  98. 

Merman,  The,  132. 

Metaphor,  199,  235-239;  ancient 
and  modern,  235  ;  faults  in,  200, 
293-318  ;  metaphorical  representa- 
tion, 228. 

Metonomy,  197. 


INDEX. 


353 


Metres.     See  Measures,  Feet. 

Metrical  essay,  3. 

Mid-cut  in  words,  158. 

Mid-Summer  Night's  Dream,  75, 
109. 

Milton,  27,  40,  43,  53,  55,  56,  80, 
83,  87,  99.  IJ4,  129,  132,  134,  136, 
137,  138,  140,  141,  142,  143,  144, 
145,  146,  147,  155,  159,  168,  171, 
201,  218,  226,  233,  205,  288,  291, 
296,  306,  313,  338. 

Milton,  Sonnet  on,  340. 

Misuse  of  words,  165. 

Mitford,  135. 

Monotony  in  melody,  75,  115-120. 

Moore,  62,  113,  234. 

Moral,  in  poetry,  how  can  be  repre- 
sented, 339-346. 

Morris,  W.,  154,  159,  170,  219,  234, 
248,  249,  289. 

Mort  d' Arthur,   146,  206,  215,  294. 

Movement,  how  represented  in  elo- 
cutionary and  poetic  duration, 
37-49  ;  force,  50-88  ;  pitch,  89- 
125  ;  quality,  126-149  ;  in  gram- 
matical arrangements  of  word", 
180-184  ;  in  intonations,  12  ;  ^\ 
progress  of  form,  322  ;  in  poetry 
of  Homer,  251-261. 

Muller,  M.,  9,  10,  176,  182. 

Mulock,  53,  207. 

Music,  22-24,  95-125.    See  Melody. 

My  faith  looks  up  to  thee,  112. 

My  Psalm,  53,  230. 

Nearer  my  God  to  Thee,  74. 

Napoleon,  14,  109. 

Negative  effects,  how  represented, 

9-2,  US- 

New  Testament,  15. 
Newton,  65. 

New  Year's  Eve  in  Exile,  315. 
Nocturne,  333. 
Nymph's  Reply,  66. 

Obscurity,  156,  164,  276,  296,  309- 
318  ;  not  brilliancy,  302,  303  ;  in 
allusions,  304. 

Odyssey,  55,  138,  202. 

Ogier  the  Dane,  289. 

Old  Continentals,  141. 

Old  Oaken  Bucket,  69. 


O  Mary  go  and  call,  etc.,  326. 
Omission  of  words,  161 ;   figure  of 

rhetoric,  196. 
Only  a  Woman,  53. 
Onomatopoeia,  9,  197. 
On  the  Detraction,  40. 
On  the  Cliffs,  101,  118. 
Orations,  style  of,  299-302. 
Ornamental  alloy,  279,  307-318. 
Ornate,  279,  307-318. 
Orotund    qtiality,    elocutionary   and 

poetic,  127-149. 
Orris,  S.  S.,  15. 
O  Sacred  Head,  etc.,  79. 
Osgood,  F.  S.,  75- 
Othello,  129,  137,  237   307 

Palestine,  Sketches  of,  117 

Palfrey,  To  J.  G.,  303. 

Palmer,  112. 

Paradise  Lost,  27,  40,  43,  55,  56, 
80,  83,  87,  114,  129,  132,  134,  136, 
137,  138,  140,  141,  142,  143,  146, 
147.  155,  201,  218,  226,  233,  266, 
288,  296,  306, 

Paradise  Regained,  137,  145. 

Paralipsis,  196. 

Parallelism,  25. 

Parish  Register,  294. 

Pathos,  how  represented,  69,  72,  73, 
114. 

Patten,  G.  W.,  79. 

Patti,  A.,  126. 

Pause,  source  of  verse,  25,  39,  40 ; 
inartistic,  40 ;  what  represents  in 
elocution,  32,  38  ;  in  poetry,  39, 
40. 

Pectoral  quality  in  elocution  and 
poetry,  127-149. 

Percy,  223. 

Persistency,  metre  representing,  65- 
67,  71. 

Peter  Bell,  267. 

Phillis  the  Fair,  106. 

Philosophical,  The,  how  made  po- 
etic, 204-207,  209-212,  225-230, 
281-284, 

Phrases,  source  of  verse,  25  ;  ideas 
derived  from  them,  as  well  as 
from  words,  164 ;  how  meanings 
of,  determined  by  association  and 
comparison,  180-185. 


354 


POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 


Pictures,  in  plain  language,  210. 

Pinafore,  30,  160,  222. 

Pitch,  elocutionary,  33  ;  what  repre- 
sents, 34,  35,  85-125  ;  rising  and 
falling,  103-114. 

Plain  Language  distingushed  from 
figurative,  195-207;  when  should 
be  used,  203  ;  when  plain  is  po- 
etic and  representative,  208-224. 

Plato,  15. 

Pleasures  of  Hope,  101,  116,  133. 

Pleonasm,  152. 

Poe,  9,  55,  70,  143,  168,  169, 

Pollock,  163. 

Poor  Man's  Wife,  A,  163. 

Pope,  42,  44,  54,  55,  120,  121,  156, 

157,  202,  239,  340,  341. 

Portrait,  A,  III. 

Portrait,  The,  167. 

Positiveness,  metre  representing, 
62-64,  71.  92. 

Precision,  metre  representing,  62. 

Precocious  Baby,  The,  52,  94. 

Prelude,  289,  290. 

Presentation,  distinguished  from 
Representation,  208-212,  339, 
340.  See  Alloyed  Representa- 
tion. 

Present  Crisis,  307. 

Presentiment,  A,  336. 

Princess,  9,  55,  144,  145,  149,  226, 
282,  313,  324. 

Progress  in  poetic  form,  322.  See 
Movement. 

Progress  of  Poesy,  144. 

Prometheus  Unbound,  190. 

Prose,  how  differing  from  poetry, 
1 86,  208-212,  279-290,  339,  340. 

Psalms,  The,  26. 

Psalm  of  Life,  31,  152,  229. 

Pure  quality,  elocutionary  and  po- 
etic, 128-149. 

Pure  representation,  208-261 ;  all 
classic  representation,  pure,  263  ; 
in  Homer,  241-261. 

Push,  metre  representing,  58,  65-67. 

Quality,  el.  33-35  ;  and  poetic,  what 
each  kind  represents,  126-149. 

Quantity  of  syllables,  as  basis  of 
metre,  English  and  classic,  29, 
38-49 ;  elocutionary  and  poetic 


representation   by  means  of,   38^. 
49,  98-102,  126-149. 

Railroad  Rhyme,  42,  122. 

Rainy  Day,  The,  339. 

Raleigh,  66. 

Rapidity,  how  represented  in  elocu- 
tion and  poetry,  39,  41-49,  52,  68  ; 
in  rhyme,  118-125. 

Rapture,  metre  representing,  74. 
See  Delight. 

Raven,  9,  55,  168. 

Read,  T.  B.,  9,  46. 

Recitative,  21. 

Reflective  tendency,  in  character, 
14  ;  in  elocution,  34  ;  in  imitative 
expression,  14-17 ;  in  forming 
words  from  sounds,  8  ;  new 
words  from  old  words  by  com- 
parison, 173  ;  in  making  repre- 
sentation indirect  or  illustrative, 
231  ;  representing  what  in  dura- 
tion, 37  ;  in  force,  50,  58,  68,  82 ; 
in  pitch,  90-93  ;  in  quality,  127. 

Regularity  of  movement,  produced 
by  force,  82-88  ;  by  rhyme,  118- 
125- 

Representation  in  conception  of 
great  poems,  337  ;  in  distinction 
from  presentation,  208-212 ;  in 
expressing  thought  and  feeling, 
limits  of,  213  (see  Philosophy) ; 
in  expressing  the  moral,  339 ;  in 
mixture  of  main  and  illustrative 
thought,  296-307  ;  in  poems  as 
wholes,  319-341  ;  in  sense,  173- 
346  ;  in  sound,  1-172  ;  in  thought 
as  well  as  style,  2ii  ;  useful  ends 
of,  342-346.  See  Alloyed,  Com- 
posite, Direct,  Illustrative,  Indi- 
rect, Pure. 

Rhapsody  of  Life's  Progress,  159. 

Rhetoric,  figures  of,  not  all  repre- 
sentative, 196,  197  ;  how  different 
from  poetry,  279. 

Rhyme,  Effects  of,  118-125. 

Rhythm,  19,  27,  28,  35-87. 

Richard  II.,  201  ;  III.,  133. 

Rienzi's  Address,  135. 

Ring  and  the  Book,  164,  165. 

Robertson,  Rev.  T.  W.,  299. 

Roche,  328. 


INDEX. 


355 


Rogers,  133. 

Rokeby,  58,  201. 

Roman.     See  Classic. 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  129,  290. 

Rosebush,  The,  329. 

Rowe,  259. 

Ruins  of  Rome,  87. 

Sailor  Boy's  Dream,  69. 

Samson  Agonistes,  53. 

Sapphic  verse,  21. 

Satisfaction,  how  represented,  82, 
127. 

Saturday  Review,  193. 

Saxe,  42,  122. 

Schmidt,  J.  H.  H.,  22,  23,  29,  63, 
67,  72,  108. 

Scholar  and  Carpenter,  156. 

Scott,  39,  46,  51,  54,  71,  76,  85,  100, 
109,  no,  122,  145,  153,  162,  163, 
167,  201,  223,  258. 

Seasons,  The,  299. 

Seige  of  Corinth,  207. 

Selkirk,  70. 

Seminole's  Defiance,  79. 

Sensuous  and  sensual,  292. 

Serenade  at  the  Villa,  139. 

Shakespeare,  27,  41,  53,  54,  63,  75, 
83,  91,  93,  107,  109,  117,  124, 
125,  129,  130,  131,  133,  134,  137, 
!3S,  139,  140,  141,  142,  143,  146, 
155,  158,  162,  166,  167,  171,  191, 
193,  201,  205,  207,  218,  227,  233, 
236,  237  ,238,  290,  291,  292,  307, 
313,  33o,  343  ;  prose  of,  302  ; 
sonnet  on,  159. 

Shanly,  C.  D.,  325. 

Shelley,  66,  76,  80,  85,  104,  105, 190. 

Shelling,  17. 

Sheridan's  Ride,  9,  46. 

She  was  a  Phantom  of  Delight,  190, 
202. 

Shipwreck,  298. 

Sidney,  Sir  P.,  2. 

Simile,  199,  232  ;  faults  in,  200-203, 
308-312. 

Sing  Heigh-Ho,  235. 

Sky  Lark,  The,  TOO. 

Slowness  in  elocution,  39  ;  in  poetry, 
41-49  ;  52. 

Smith,  Alex.,  199,  230,  274,  275  ; 
H.,  33i. 


Smooth  force,  elocutionary  and  po* 

etic,  82-88. 
Softness,  how  represented  in  poetry, 

53-55,  86. 

Soldier's  Dream,  87. 
Song  and  Poetry,  22. 
Song  of  the  Shirt,  76. 
Sordello,  201,  304. 
Soul  in  expression,  same  as  emotion, 

13,  15-17. 

Sounds,  how  representing  thought  in 
duration,  37-49  ;  force,  50-88  ;  in- 
tonations, 18-36  ;  pitch,  89-125  ; 
quality  of  word-forms,  4-18,  126- 
149;  how  not  representing  thought, 
150-172  ;  when  poetic  sounds  are 
inartistic,  171. 

Southey,  88,  124,  249,  250,  257, 
258,  260,  284,  285. 

Spafford,  H.  E.  P.,  328. 

Spencer,  H.,  15,  17,  20,  22,  23,  191, 

233- 
Spenser,  E.,  31,  40,   138,   140,   143, 

171,  277,  309. 
Spenserian  verse,  21. 
Spinning- Wheel  Song,  69. 
Spurgeon,  299. 
Star-Spangled  Banner,  75. 
St.  Cecilia's  Day,  155. 
Still  we  wait    for  thine    appearing, 

119. 

Storrs,  R.  H.,  299,  300. 
Strength,  how  represented  in  poetry, 

52-55- 
Stress,  elocutionary  and  poetic,  57, 

58  ;  analogy  between  it  and  poetic 

measures,  58-60. 
St.  Simeon  Stylites,  82. 
Suckling,  115,  116. 
Summing  up  in  Italy,  40. 
Superfluity,  152. 

Surprise,  how  represented,  128-149. 
Swinburne,  87,  101,   102,   116,   118, 

144,  146,   169,  170,  311,  312,  316, 

317.  ' 
Symbols,  words  not   arbitrary,  174. 

See  Meanings,  Sounds,  Words. 
Syncope,  158. 
Synecdoche,  198. 

Taming  of  the  Shrew,  143. 
Task,  The,  297. 


356 


POETRY  AS  A   REPRESENTATIVE  ART. 


Tears  of  the  Muses,  140. 

Tempest,  The,  63,  139. 

Tennyson,  9,  39,  40,  43,  51,  52,  54, 
55,  66,  71,  82,  84,  85,  87,  101, 
no,  in,  112,  113,  116,  122,  129, 
130,  132,  134,  144,  145,  146,  149, 
*54f  157.  I94>  203,  206,  215,  221, 
224,  226,  230,  236,  238,  264,  269, 
271,  272,  281,  282,  283,  284,  287, 
291,  294,  313,  324,  332,  341,  344. 

Thackeray,  83. 

Thalaba  124,  250,  257. 

Thalassius,  102,  118, 

Thanatopsis,  343. 

The  Spacious  Firmament  on  High, 

154- 

The  Sun  is  Warm,  66. 
Thompson,  298,  337. 
Thought,  227. 
Tides,  The,  335. 
Time.     See  Duration. 
Timon  of  Athens,  53. 
Tintern  Abbey,  2,  178,  343,  346. 
Toccata  of  Galuppi's,  132. 
To-day  and  To-morrow,  53. 
To  Labor  is  to  Pray,  75. 
To  Mr.  Hobbes,  159. 
Tommy's  dead,  84. 
Too  Late,  222. 
Transposition  of  words,  154. 
Tree  of  Liberty,  158. 
Trench,  176,  178. 
Triumph,  metre  representing,  74. 
Trochee,  60,  63,  67. 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  140,  236. 
Trope,  198. 

Tunes  of  Verse,  21,  27,  89-125. 
Twa  Dogs,  144. 
Twelfth  Night,  107. 
Twenty  Years,  330. 
Two  April  Mornings,  205. 
Two  Voices,  51,  66,  101,  113. 

Unbeloved,  The,  159. 

Under  my  Window,  75. 

Unimportant  ideas.    See  Important. 

Unity,  effects  of,  as  produced  by 
rhyme,  118-125  >  by  form  in  ar- 
rangement of  thought,  322. 


Variety  in  poetic  melody,   115-125. 
Vehemence,  metre  representing,  74, 

82. 

Veron,  172. 
Virgil,  46,  47,  155. 
Vision,  196. 

Wagner,  314. 
Waller,  J.  F.,  69. 
Washington,   14. 
Waterloo,  Charge  at,  54. 
Weakness,      how      represented     in 

poetry,  53-56. 

Wedding,  Ballad  upon,  115. 
Wedgeworth,  145. 
Weight,  how  represented  in  poetry, 

52,  53,  55- 
Welcome,  The,  113. 
Wellington,    Ode   on,    52,   84,    116, 

134. 

Westminster  Bridge,  40. 

Westwood,  T.,  75. 

When  gathering  Clouds,  86. 

Whitney,  8,  10. 

Whittier,  53,  84,  86,   133,  230,  339. 

Will,  14. 

Wilfulness,  14. 

Wilmot,   119. 

Wilson,  302. 

Wind  and  Stream,  The,  334. 

Winstanley,  159,  166,   167. 

Winter  Evening,  297. 

Winter's  Tale,  166. 

Wither,  159. 

Woodworth,  S.,  69. 

Words,  why  Anglo-Saxon  preferred 
by  poets,  191-194  ;  conventional 
and  imaginative,  187  ;  poetic  and 
unpoetic,  186-194  ;  primary, 
formed  from  association  and  com- 
parison, 5-8  ;  secondary,  ditto, 
174-179  ;  sounds  of,  representing 
sense,  9,  127-149,  178. 

Wordsworth,  i,  26,  40,  121,  151, 
156,  178,  190,  202,  205,  267,  270, 
280,  289,  290,  338,  340,  343,  346, 
prose  of,  302  ;  plan  of  Excursion, 

337- 
Wreck  of  Grace  of  Sunderland,  163. 


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the  correctness  and  charm  of  his  rhetorical  instruction,  or  his  facility  in  exemplifying 
what  he  commends. " — Hartford  (Conn.)  Courant. 

"The  poems  all  show  Dr.  Raymond's  perfect  art  of  expression,  his  deep  and  relig- 
ious love  of  nature,  and  his  profound  reverence  for  the  landscape  he  celebrates. 
Every  New  Englander  will  appreciate  the  volume,  and  Williams  College  men  can 
ill  afford  not  to  possess  it." — Portland.  (Me.)  Evening  Express. 

"  They  show  a  keen  ear  for  rhythm,  felicity  of  phrase,  exquisite  taste,  a  polished 
style,  and  often  exalted  feeling.  Mr.  Raymond's  students  .  .  .  and  those  who 
have  read  his  book  upon  the_  principles  that  underlie  art,  ppetry,  and  music  will  be 
interested  in  this  clothing,  in  concrete  form,  of  his  poetic  theories.  .  .  .  Dr. 
Miller  makes  in  his  Introduction  a  long  and  lucid  discussion  of  these. " — New  York 
Times. 

"The  men  of  Williams  College  especially  owe  him  a  debt  of  gratitude  that  can 
never  be  paid." — Troy  (N.  Y.)  Record. 

"The  many  full-page  illustrations  give  lovely  vistas  of  the  Berkshires  and  of 
the  stream-silvered  valleys  they  guard.  Sometimes  philosophic,  sometimes  purely 
imaginative,  through  all  the  verse  runs  a  high  patriotism  and  a  love  of  beauty  and 
humanity  which  uplifts  and  strengthens." — Boston  Transcript. 

"Verse  that  often  suggests  Bryant  in  its  simplicity  and  dignity.  That  is  surely  a 
sound  model  for  nature  poetry.  Large  and  finely  produced  photographs  bring  the 
mountains  vividly  before  the  reader.  This  is  not  a  book  to  read  in  the  subway;  but 
lying  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  stony  wall  when  the  leaves  are  bursting  in  spring,  it 
will  surely  appeal." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

Modern  Fishers  of  Men.     I2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top     .      $1.00 

"This  delightful  novel  is  written  with  charming  insight.  The  rare  gift  of 'character 
delineation  the  author  can  claim  in  full.  .  .  .  Shrewd  comments  upon  life  and 
character  add  spice  to  the  pages. " — Nashville  Tennessean. 

"Deals  with  love  and  religion  in  a  small  country  town,  and  under  the  facile  pen 
and  keen  humor  of  the  author,  the  various  situations  .  .  .  are  made  the  most  of 
.  .  .  true  to  the  life. " — Boston  Globe. 

"Such  a  spicy,  racy,  more-truth-than-fiction  work  has  not  been  placed  in  our 
hands  for  a  long  time." — Chicago  Evening  Journal. 

"A  captivating  story,  far  too  short  .  .  .  just  as  fresh  and  absorbing  as  when  the 
lauthor  laid  down  his  pen  .  .  .  that  was  before  typewriters. " — Denver  Republican. 

"Essentially  humorous,  with  an  undercurrent  of  satire  ....  also  subtle  char- 
acter delineation,  which  will  appeal  strongly  to  those  who  have  the  perceptive  facul- 
ties highly  developed." — San  Francisco  Bulletin. 

"The  book  is  delightful  ....  in  several  ways  very  remarkable." — Boston 
Times. 

"A  distinct  surprise  lies  in  this  little  story  .  .  .  .  of  1879  .  .  .  .  so  strongly 
does  it  partake  of  the  outlook  and  aim  of  the  new  church  of  to-day." — Washington 
Star 

"In  'Modern  Fishers  of  Men,'  one  sees  that  the  Men  and  Religion  Forward 
Movement  existed  before  it  began." — The  Watchman,  Boston. 

"Pleasant  reading  for  those  whom  sad  experience  has  led  to  doubt  the  possibility 
of  a  real  community  uplift  with  lasting  qualities.  The  story  is  brightened  with  a , 
quiet  but  none  the  less  hearty  humor. " — Cincinnati  Times. 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS.  New  York  and  London,  Publishers 


The  Poet's  Cabinet  and  An  Art-Philosopher's  Cabinet, 

two  books  containing  quotations,  the  one  from  the  poems, 
the  other  from  the  aesthetic  works  of  George  Lansing 
Raymond,  selected  and  arranged  alphabetically  accord- 
ing to  subject  by  Marion  Mills  Miller,  Litt.D.,  editor 
of  The  Classics,  Greek  and  Latin,  with  illustrations. 
Each  book  8vo.,  cloth  bound,  gilt  top  .  .  .  $2.00 

"Dr.  Raymond  is  one  of  the  most  just  and  pregnant  critics,  as  well  as  one  of  the 
most  genuine  poets,  that  America  has  produced.  .  .  .  His  verse  generally,  and  his 
prose  frequently,  is  a  solid  pack  of  epigrams;  and  hundreds  of  the  epigrams  are 
vigorous,  fresh,  telling,  worth  collecting  and  cataloguing.  .  .  .  Probably  from 
no  other  American  but  Emerson  could  a  collection  at  all  comparable  be  made. 
Many  of  the  phrases  are  profound  paradox.  .  .  .  Others  are  as  hard-headed  as 
La  Rochefoucauld.  .  .  .  Some  are  plain  common  sense,  set  in  an  audacious  figure, 
or  a  vigorous  turn  of  phrase.  .  .  .  But  few  or  none  of  them  are  trivial.  .  .  . 
As  an  aesthetic  critic,  Professor  Raymond  is,  by  training  and  temperament,  remark- 
ably versatile  and  catholic.  He  is  almost  or  quite  equally  interested  in  architecture, 
painting,  sculpture,  music,  poetry.  .  .  .  Each  is  as  definitely  placed  in  his  system 
as  the  several  instruments  in  a  great  orchestra.  ...  If  Dr.  Raymond  had  been 
born  in  France,  England,  or  Germany,  he  would,  no  doubt,  have  enjoyed  a  wider 
vogue.  But  it  is  just  as  well  that  he  was  none  of  these;  for  the,  as  yet,  aesthetically 
immature  New  World  has  sore  need  of  him. — Revue  Internationale,  Paris. 

"We  risk  little  in  foretelling  a  day  when  all  considerable  libraries,  private  as  well 
&s  public,  will  be  deemed  quite  incomplete  if  lacking  these  twin  volumes.  Years 
after  the  thinker  has  paid  the  debt  to  nature  due,  his  thoughts  will  rouse  action  and 
emotion  in  the  hearts  and  minds  of  generations  now  unborn." — Worcester  (Mass.) 
Gazette. 

"This  Poet's  Cabinet  is  the  best  thing  of  its  class — that  confined  to  the  works  of 
one  author — upon  which  our  eyes  have  fallen,  either  by  chance  or  purpose.  We 
can't  help  wishing  that  we  had  a  whole  book-shelf  of  such  volumes  in  our  own 
private  library." — Columbus  (O.)  Journal. 

"The  number  and  variety  of  the  subjects  are  almost  overwhelming,  and  the 
searcher  for  advanced  or  new  thought  as  expressed  by  this  particular  philosopher 
has  no  difficulty  in  coming  almost  immediately  upon  something  that  may  strike 
his  fancy  or  aid  him  in  his  perplexities.  To  the  student  of  poetry  and  the  higher 
forms  of  literature,  it  may  be  understood  that  the  volume  will  be  of  distinct  aid." — 
Utica  (N.  Y.)  Observer. 

"A  wide  range  of  topics,  under  appropriate  heads,  and  their  classificati9n  in 
alphabetic  order,  thus  making  the  work  convenient  for  reference.  .  .  .  Editors, 
authors,  teachers,  public  speakers,  and  many  others  will  find  it  a  useful  volume, 
filled  with  quotable  passages  in  astonishing  numbers  when  it  is  remembered  that 
they  are  the  work  of  a  single  author." — Hartford  (Conn.)  Times. 

"  Dr.  Miller's  task  in  selecting  representative  extracts  from  Professor  Raymond's 
works  has  not  been  a  light  one,  for  there  has  been  no  chaff  among  the  wheat,  and 
there  was  an  ever  present  temptation  to  add  bulk  to  the  book  through  freedom  in 
compilation.  He  thought  best,  however,  to  eliminate  all  but  the  features  which 
revealed  the  rare  rich  soul  and  personality  of  the  poet,  and  each  quotation  is  a  gem." 
—Albany  (N.  Y.)  Times-Union. 

"The  book  contains  a  careful  and  authoritative  selection  of  the  best  things  which 
this  brilliant  man  of  letters  has  given  to  the  literary  world.  .  .  .  The  compiler 
has  done  fine  work.  .  .  .  One  cannot  turn  to  a  page  without  coming  across  some 
quotation  which  fits  in  for  the  day  with  the  happiest  result.  Dr.  Raymond's  satire 
ia  keen  but  kindly,  his  sentiment  sweet  and  tender,  and  his  philosophy  convincing 
and  useful." — Buffalo  (N.  Y.)  Courier. 

"Everybody  who  knows  anything  about  literature  knows,  of  course,  that  Dr. 
Raymond  is  a  philosopher  as  well  as  poet  ...  no  mere  rhymester,  no  simple 
weaver  of  ear-tickling  phrases  and  of  well-measured  verse  and  stanza.  There  is 
pith  as  well  as  music  in  his  song  ...  all  breathing  power  as  well  as  grace." — 
Brooklyn  (N.  Y.)  Citizen. 

"  To  study  the  works  of  any  one  man  so  that  we  are  completely  familiar  with  his 
ideas  upon  all  important  subjects — if  the  man  have  within  him  any  element  of  great- 
ness— is  a  task  which  is  likely  to  repay  the  student's  work.  .  .  .  This  fact  makes 
the  unique  quality  of  the  present  volume  .  .  .  quotations  which  deal  with  practi- 
cally every  subject  to  be  found  in  more  general  anthologies." — Boston  (Mass.) 
Advertiser. 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS.  New  York  and   London.  Publishers 


ProfessorRaymond'sSystemofCOMPARATIVE/ESTHETICS 

I. — Art  in  Theory.    8vo,  cloth  extra $1-75 

"Scores  an  advance  upon  the  many  art  criticisms  extant.  .  .  .  Twenty  brilliant 
chapters,  pregnant  with  suggestion." — Popular  Science  Monthly. 

"A  well  grounded,  thoroughly  supported,  and  entirely  artistic  conception  of  art 
that  will  lead  observers  to  distrust  the  charlatanism  that  imposes  an  idle  and  super- 
ficial mannerism  upon  the  public  in  place  of  true  beauty  and  honest  workmanship. " 
— The  New  York  Times. 

"His  style  is  good,  and  his  logic  sound  and  ...  of  the  greatest  possible  service 
to  the  student  of  artistic  theories." — Art  Journal  (London). 

II.— The  Representative  Significance  of  Form.  8vo,  cloth  extra  $2.00 

"A  valuable  essay.  .  .  .  Professor  Raymond  goes  so  deep  into  causes  as  to 
explore  the  subconscious  and  the  unconscious  mind  for  a  solution  of  his  problems, 
and  eloquently  to  range  through  the  conceptions  of  religion,  science  and  metaphysics 
in  order  to  find  fixed  principles  of  taste.  ...  A  highly  interesting  discussion. " — 
The  Scotsman  (Edinburgh). 

"Evidently  the  ripe  fruit  of  years  of  patient  and  exhaustive  study  on  the  part  of  a 
man  singularly  fitted  for  his  task.  It  is  profound  in  insight,  searching  in  analysis, 
broad  in  spirit,  and  thoroughly  modern  in  method  and  sympathy. " — The  Universalist 
Leader. 

"Its  title  gives  no  intimation  to  the  general  reader  of  its  attractiveness  for  him,  or 
to  curious  readers  of  its  widely  discursive  range  of  interest.  .  .  .  Its  broad  range 
may  remind  one  of  those  scythe-bearing  chariots  with  which  the  ancient  Persians 
used  to  mow  down  hostile  files." — The  Outlook. 

III. — Poetry  as  a  Representative  Art.    8yo,  cloth  extra  Si-75 

"I  have  read  it  with  pleasure,  and  a  sense  of  instruction  on  many  points." — 
Francis  Turner  Palgrave,  Professor  of  Poetry,  Oxford  University. 

"Dieses  ganz  vortreffliche  Werk. " —  Englischen  Studien,  Universitdt  Breslau. 

"An  acute,  interesting,  and  brilliant  piece  of  work.  ...  As  a  whole  the  essay 
deserves  unqualified  praise." — ,iV.  Y.  Independent. 

IV. — Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture  as  Representative  Arts. 
With  225  illustrations.    8vo $2.50 

"The  artist  will  find  in  it  a  wealth  of  profound  and  varied  learning;  of  original, 
suggestive,  helpful  thought  .  .  .  of  absolutely  inestimable  value. " — The  Looker-on. 

"Expression  by  means  of  extension  or  size,  .  .  .  shape,  .  .  .  regularity  in 
outlines  .  .  .  the  human  body  .  .  .  posture,  gesture,  and  movement,  .  .  .  are 
all  considered.  ...  A  specially  interesting  chapter  is  the  one  on  color." — 
Current  Literature. 

"The  whole  book  is  the  work  of  a  man  of  exceptional  thoughtfulness,  who  says 
what  he  has  to  say  in  a  remarkably  lucid  and  direct  manner." — Philadelphia JPr 'ess. 

V.— The  Genesis  of  Art  Form.    Fully  illustrated.     8vo  .        .     $2.25 

"In  a  spirit  at  once  scientific  and  that  of  the  true  artist,  he  pierces  through  the 
manifestations  of  art  to  their  sources,  and  shows  the  relations  intimate  and  essential, 
between  painting,  sculpture,  poetry,  music,  and  architecture.  A  book  that  possesses 
not  only  singular  value,  but  singular  charm." — N.  Y.  Times. 

"A  help  and  a  delight.  Every  aspirant  for  culture  in  any  of  the  liberal  arts,  includ- 
ing music  and  poetry,  will  find  something  in  this  book  to  aid  him. " — Boston  Times. 

"It  is  impossible  to  withhold  one's  admiration  from  a  treatise  which  exhibits  in 
such  a  large  degree  the  qualities  of  philosophic  criticism." — Philadelphia  Press. 

VI. — Rhythm  and  Harmony  in  Poetry  and  Music.    Together  with 
Music  as  a  Representative  Art.    8vo,  cioth  extra     .    $1.75 

"Professor  Raymond  has  chosen  a  delightful  subject,  and  he  treats  it  with  all  the 
charm  of  narrative  and  high  thought  and  profound  study." — New  Orleans  States. 

"The  reader  must  be,  indeed,  a  person  either  of  supernatural  stupidity  or  of 
marvelous  erudition,  who  does  not  discover  much  information  in  Prof.  Raymond's 
exhaustive  and  instructive  treatise.  From  page  to  page  it  is  full  of  suggestion." — 
The  Academy  (London). 

VII.— Proportion  and  Harmony  of  Line  and  Color  in  Painting, 
Sculpture,  and  Architecture.    Fully  illustrated.    8vo.    $2.50 

"  Marked  by  profound  thought  along  lines  unfamiliar  to  most  readers  and  thinkers. 
.  .  .  When  grasped,  however,  it  becomes  a  source  of  great  enjoyment  and  exhil- 
aration. ...  No  critical  person  can  afford  to  ignore  so  yaluable  a  contribution  to 
the  art-thought  of  the  day." — The  Art  Interchange  (N.  Y.). 

"One  does  not  need  to  be  a  scholar  to  follow  this  scholar  as  he  teaches  while 
seeming  to  entertain,  for  he  does  both." — Burlington  Hawkey e. 

"  The  artist  who  wishes  to  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  color,  the  sculptor  who  desires 
to  cultivate  his  sense  of  proportion,  or  the  architect  whose  ambition  is  to  reach  to  a 
high  standard  will  find  the  work  helpful  and  inspiring." — Boston  Transcript. 

G,  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York  and  London,  Publisher* 


TEXT-BOOKS  BY  PROFESSOR  RAYMOND 

The  Essentials  of  Esthetics.    8vo.    Illustrated.  $2.50 

This  work,  which  is  mainly  a  compendium  of  the  author's  system  of  Comparative 
Esthetics,  previously  published  in  seven  volumes,  was  prepared  by  request,  for  a 
text-book  and  for  readers  whose  time  is  too  limited  to  study  the  minutiae  of  the 
subject. 

"It  can  hardly  fail  to  make  talent  more  rational,  genius  more  conscious  of  the 
principles  of  art,  and  the  critic  and  connoisseur  better  equipped  for  impression, 
judgment,  or  appraisement. " — N.  Y.  Times. 

"In  spite  of  all  that  has  been  written  on  the  subject  from  widely  contrasted 
standpoints,  this  manual  has  distinct  claims  on  students. " — The  Standard  (London). 

"His  evidence  is  clear  and  straightforward,  and  his  conclusions  eminently  scholarly 
and  sound." — Vanity  Fair  (London.) 

"In  his  scientific  excursion,  he  makes  hard  things  easy  to  the  lay  mind.  The 
serious  student  of  art  cannot  fail  to  find  the  book  interesting,  and  in  certain  import- 
ant matters  convincing." — Manchester  (England)  Guardian. 

"This  book  is  a  valuable  contribution  to  an  important  subject  which  may  help 
us  to  understand  more  fully  not  only  that  a  picture,  or  a  poem,  or  a  musical  com- 
position is  good,  but  also  why  it  is  good,  and  what  constitutes  its  excellence." — The 
Christian  Register  (Boston). 

"So  lucid  in  expression  and  rich  in  illustration  that  every  page  contains  matter  of 
deep  interest  even  to  the  general  reader. " — Boston  Herald. 

"  Dr.  Raymond's  book  will  be  invaluable.  He  shows  a  knowledge  both  extensive 
and  exact  of  the  various  fine  arts,  and  accompanies  his  ingenious  and  suggestive 
theories  by  copious  illustrations." — The  Scotsman  (Edinburgh). 

"The  whole  philosophy  underlying  this  intelligent  art-criticism  should  be  given 
the  widest  possible  publicity." — Boston  Globe. 

The  Orator's  Manual.     I2mo       ....        $1.50 

A  Practical  and  Philosophic  Treatise  on  Vocal  Culture,  Emphasis,  and  Gesture, 
together  with  Hints  for  the  Composition  of  Orations  and  Selections  for  Declamation 
and  Reading,  designed  as  a  Text-book  for  Schools  and  Colleges,  and  for  Public 
Speakers  and  Readers  who  are  obliged  to  Study  without  an  Instructor,  fully  revised 
with  important  Additions  after  the  Fifteen  Edition. 

"It  is  undoubtedly  the  most  complete  and  thorough  treatise  on  oratory  for  the 
practical  student  ever  published. " — The  Educational  Weekly,  Chicago. 

"I  consider  it  the  best  American  book  upon  technical  elocution.  It  has  also 
leanings  toward  a  philosophy  of  expression  that  no  other  book  written  by  an  Ameri- 
can has  presented." — Moses  True  Brown.  Head  of  the  Boston  School  of  Oratory. 

"  The  work  is  evidently  that  of  a  skilful  teacher  bringing  before  students  of  oratory 
the  results  of  philosophical  thinking  and  successful  experience  in  an  admirable  form 
and  a  narrow  compass." — /,  W.  Churchill.  Professor  of  Homiletics,  Andover  Theo- 
logical Seminary. 

"  I  have  long  wished  for  just  such  a  book.  It  is  thoroughly  practical,  and  descends 
into  details,  really  helping  the  speaker." — /.  M.  Hoppin,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Hom- 
iletics, Yale. 

"The  completeness,  exactness,  and  simplicity  of  this  manual  excite  my  admira- 
tion. It  is  so  just  and  full  of  nature."— A.  T.  McGill,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Professor  of 
Homiletics,  Princeton. 

The  Writer  (with  POST  WHEELER,  Litt.D.)     i2mo.      $1.00 

A  Concise,  Complete,  and  Practical  Text-book  of  Rhetoric,  designed  to  aid  in  the 
Appreciation,  as  well  as  Production  of  All  Forms  of  Literature,  Explaining,  for  the 
first  time,  the  Principles  of  Written  Discourses  by  correlating  them  to  those  of  Oral 
Discourse.  Former  editions  fully  revised. 

"A  book  of  unusual  merit.  A  careful  examination  creates  the  impression  that  the 
exercises  have  been  prepared  by  practical  teachers,  and  the  end  in  view  is  evidently 
to  teach  rather  than  to  give  information." — The  Pacific  Educational  Journal. 

"  The  pupil  will  forget  he  is  studying  rhetoric,  and  will  come  to  express  himself  for 
the  pure  pleasure  he  has  in  this  most  beautiful  art." — Indiana  School  Journal. 

"It  reaches  its  purpose.  While  especially  valuable  as  a  text-book  in  schools,  it  is 
a  volume  that  should  be  ir.  the  hands  of  every  literary  worker." — State  Gazette, 
Trenton,  N.  J. 

"  The  treatment  is  broader  and  more  philosophical  than  in  the  ordinary  text-book. 
Every  species  of  construction  and  figure  is  considered.  The  student  has  his  critical 
and  literary  sense  further  developed  by  ...  the  best  writings  in  the  language  used 
to  illustrate  certain  qualities  of  style." — The  School  Journal. 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S    SONS,  New   York  and  London,  Publishers 


TEXT-BOOKS  BY  PROFESSOR  RAYMOND 

Ethics  and  Natural  Law.     8vo.      .         .         .     Net,  $2.25 

A  Reconstructive  Review  of  Moral  Philosophy,  Applied  to  the  Rational  Art  of 
Living, — a  Book  that  is  in  effect  a  Continuati9n  and  Completipn  of  the  Author's 
well-known  ^Esthetic  Works,  showing  the  Relationship  of  the  Principles  underlying 
Art  to  the  Culture  of  Character. 

The  lines  of  thought  presented  in  this  volume  differ,  in  important  regards,  from 
those  unfolded  in  former  theories  of  Ethics.  It  is  here  maintained  that  morality  is 
conditioned  upon  desires; — that  desires  may  arise  in  the  mind  or  in  the  body;  and, 
in  both  cases,  are  expressed  through  a  man's  thinking  as  well  as  acting; — that  desires 
of  the  mind,  according  to  the  testimony  of  both  metaphysics  and  science,  seek 
objects  seen  or  heard,  the  mental  effects  of  which  can  be  unselfishly  shared  with 
others;  whereas  desires  of  the  body,  as  of  touch  and  taste,  seek  selfish  and  exclusive 
possession  of  that  which  ministers  to  individual  indulgence — that  conscience  is  a 
consciousness  of  conflict  between  these  two  classes  of  desires;  and  that  this  con- 


subordinating  rather  than  suppressing  desires  of  the  body  whose  life  they  serve. 
A  little  thinking  will  discover  moreover,  that  this  conception  of  conscience  accords 
with  the  nature  of  a  mind  that  is  influenced  by  suggestion  and  reason  more  power- 
fully than  by  dictation  and  compulsion; — as  well,  too,  as  with  the  requirements  of 
all  phases  of  spiritual  religion,  because  this  theory  shows  how  body  and  mind  may 
be  separated  after  death,  and  the  latter  alone  survive,  and  yet  how,  even  in  these 
conditions,  a  mind  that  has  not  learned,  in  this  life,  to  subordinate  the  physical  and 
material  may  still  carry  with  it  the  bias  of  their  influence.  The  volume  endeavors 
to  make  clear,  too,  that  the  history  of  ethical  theories  records  no  denial  of  the  exist- 
ence of  this  conflict  in  consciousness; — and  that  a  recognition  of  the  full  import  of 
this  fact  would  remove  the  differences  between  them,  and  furnish  a  single  philo- 
sophic principle  fundamental  to  them  all; — also  that  few,  if  any,  immoral  acts  in 
private  or  public  life  could  fail  to  be  detected,  prevented,  or  corrected  by  an  appli- 
cation to  practice  of  the  tests  that  accord  with  this  theory. 

"  The  student  of  ethics  will  considerably  fortify  his  knowledge  of  the  history  of 
ethical  thought  by  reading  the  book,  especially  the  first  twelve  chapters.  In  these 
Mr.  Raymond  embodies,  with  copious  references,  his  extensive  knowledge  of  what 
has  been  written  and  thought  by  moral  philosophers.  On  pp.  63-67,  for  instance, 
will  be  found  in  footnotes  a  kind  of  classified  anthology  of  all  the  definitions  given 
of  conscience  by  modern  writers.  The  various  ethical  theories  holding  the  field  dp 
not,  he  thinks,  recognize  as  indispensable  the  cooperation,  in  every  slightest  detail 
of  thought  and  feeling,  of  the  two  necessary  factors  of  every  desire;  and  he  claims 
that  his  own  doctrine  keeps  to  the  purpose  he  avows  in  his  opening  chapter, — to 
draw  no  inference,  and  to  advance  no  theory,  not  warranted  by  known  facts  as 
ascertainable  in  connection  with  the  operations  of  natural  law.  .  .  .  Chapters 
XIII  to  XXIII  deal  acutely  and  comprehensively  with  the  various  sides  of  American 
life." — London  (England)  Times. 

In  an  article  entitled  A  Desirable  Acquaintance,  Prof.  A.  S.  Hobart,  D.D.,  of  Crozer 
Theological  Seminary,  after  mentioning  his  twenty  years'  experience  in  teaching 
Ethics,  says,  "I  find  this  book  the  only  one  that  has  come  within  the  range  of  my 
reading  which  has,  for  the  basis  of  its  system,  what  I  have  found  to  be  satisfactory. 
The  writer  assumes  that  there  is,  in  the  nature  of  things,  a  law  of  ethical  conduct 
as  continuous  and  self-evincing  as  is  the  law  of  physical  health.  .  .  .  The  study 
of  psychology  has  opened  the  mind  to  inspection  as  we  open  the  back  of  a  watch- 
case  and  see  the  wheels  go  round;  and  this  study  lays  its  crowns  of  victorious  ex- 
plorations at  the  feet  of  ethics.  .  .  .  His  view  is  that  conscience  is  the  sense  of 
conflict  between  bodily  and  mental  desires,  .  .  .  therefore,  not  a  guide;  it  is 
only  a  sense  of  lostness  in  the  woods,  that  wants  a  guide.  Good  sense  and  good 
religion  are  the  guides  to  be  consulted.  By  many  illustrations  and  very  clear 
reasoning,  he  verifies  his  view.  Then,  ...  he  takes  up  the  task — unusual  in 
such  books — of  showing  how  the  leading  moral  qualities  can  and  ought  to  be  cul- 
tivated. In  view  of  my  own  careful  reading  of  the  book,  I  venture  to  call  attention 
to  it  as  a  most  fertile  source  of  instruction  and  suggestion  for  ethical  teaching." — 
The  Baptist. 

"  Professor  Raymond  attacks  materialism  and  militarism.  .  .  .  He  shows  that 
the  materialist  makes  mprality  depend  on  what  is  external  to  man,  and  that  the 
militarist  relies  on  physical  force  for  the  promotion  of  morality.  .  .  .  There  is 
much  in  this  book  to  commend,  especially  its  sincerity.  .  .  .  The  author  is  some- 
times too  advanced  ...  he  is,  in  fact,  a  moral  revolutionist.  But  he  always  tries 
to  determine  not  what  is  pleasant  but  what  is  just." — Rochester  (N.Y.)  Post-Express. 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York  and  London,  Publishers 


TEXT-BOOKS  BY  PROFESSOR  RAYMOND 

"  The  book  Ethics  and  Natural  Law  is  an  interesting  statement  of  the  author's 
theory  that  the  ethical  life  is  a  harmonious  life  in  which  the  antagonisms  between 
mind  and  body  are  reconciled  by  the  dominance  of  mind.  The  consciousness  of 
conflict  between  body  and  mind  accounts  for  what  we  call  conscience  which  tells 
that  the  conflict  should  be  ended.  It  is  ended  when  the  desires  of  the  body  in  the 
whole  realm  of  human  relationships  are  subordinated  to  the  desires  of  the  mind. 
The  analogy  between  the  aesthetic  and  moral  harmonies  is  excellently  developed, 
and  one  is  reminded  of  the  Platonic  principle  of  the  harmonious  subordination  of 
the  lower  to  the  higher.  In  the  statement  of  the  various  ethical  theories  which  the 
author  reviews  he  is  clear  and  satisfactory.  The  classification  of  his  material  is 
consistent  throughout.  His  emphasis  on  the  necessity  of  the  subordination,  and 
not  the  destruction  of  the  desires  of  the  body,  is  of  notable  importance.  His  doc- 
trine calls  for  the  spiritual  utiliz  ation  of  the  natural  powers  and  makes  mind  supreme 
in  the  individual,  the  social,  and  the  governmental  life  of  mankind." — John  A. 
Mclntosh,  D.D.,  Professor  of  the  Philosophy  of  Religion  and  Ethics,  McCormick 
(Presbyterian)  Theological  Seminary. 

"A  working  theory  of  ethics  that  has  much  to  recommend  it.  Experts  in  this 
field  of  inquiry  have  long  taken  for  granted  the  conflict  between  the  larger  ends  of 
society  and  the  narrower  ends  pursued  by  the  individual.  The  author  emphasizes 
the  deeper  clash  within  the  individual  between  the  desires  of  the  body  and  those  of 
the  mind,  noting  that  while  both  are  natural,  the  lower  impulses  should  always  be 
held  in  subordination  to  the  higher.  He  would  have  the  mind's  desires  kept  upper- 
most in  all  the  phases  of  individual  and  collective  life, — in  courtship,  marriage, 
family  training,  the  general  relations  between  employers  and  employees,  forms  of 
government,  and  the  framing  and  administering  of  laws.  .  .  .  Permanently 
beneficial  results  in  labor  disputes  can  be  reached  not  through  resort  to  force  but 
only  through  appeals  to  the  mind  .  .  .  and  he  is  a  severe  critic  of  executives  who 
further  the  interests  of  their  party  at  the  expense  of  the  country's  interests.  The 
work  contains  an  excellent  summary  of  ancient  and  modern  ethical  theories." — 
Boston  Herald. 

"When  once  you  make  desire  dynamic,  you  have  a  spiritual  actuating  principle. 
This  is  the  basis  upon  which  you  have  reared  a  stately  ethical  edifice.  Its  founda- 
tion rests  on  man,  on  human  rationality;  and  story  rises  above  story  of  ever  higher 
personal,  social,  and  political  relations,  with  the  light  of  the  universe  of  God  stream- 
ing through  the  windows.  The  absence  of  the  terminology  of  theology  is  more  than 
compensated  by  the  high  quality  of  the  religious  ferver  and  spiritual  insight.  I 
commend  this  book  very  strongly, — its  scholarly  ripeness,  its  intellectual  honesty, 
and  its  ethical  purpose." — Dr.  Abram  Simon,  Rabbi  of  "The  Hebrew  Congrega- 
tion," and  President  of  the  Board  of  Education  of  Washington,  D.  C. 

"A  valuable  contribution  to  Ethical  theory.  While  his  system  has  something  in 
common  with  intuitionism,  utilitarianism,  and  ethical  evolutionism,  he  is  not  a 
disciple  of  any  of  them.  .  .  .  The  main  thesis  of  the  book  is  that  there  are  two 
classes  of  desires, — those  of  the  body  and  those  of  the  mind;  and  that  there  is  con- 
tinual struggle  for  the  mastery  between  them.  .  .  .  This  thesis  is  supported  by 
numerous  chains  from  writers  on  ethics  which  show  the  author's  wide  and  thorough 
acquaintance  with  the  literature  of  the  subject.  The  style  of  the  treatise  is  a  model 
of  clearness;  it  is  dignified  but  never  dull  or  dry,  and  it  is  occasionally  illumined  by 
flashes  of  humor.  The  work  is  a  practical  guide  to  right  living,  as  the  author  applies 
his  theory  to  every  department  of  human  life,  individual  social,  national,  and  sheds 
the  light  of  his  wisdom  on  every  question  of  human  conduct.  Students  of  ethics 
cannot  afford  to  neglect  this  book.  It  ought  to  be  in  the  libraries  of  parents  of  sons 
and  daughters  approaching  manhood  and  womanhood." — The  Chronicle  (Prot. 
Epi?.)  Monthly. 

"Professor  Raymond  extracts  a  fundamental  principle  that  largely  reconciles 
existing  ethical  theories  .  .  .  makes  distinctions  that  have  vitality,  and  will  repay 
the  necessary  study  and  application." — Scientific  American. 

"In  the  course  of  his  argument  the  author  discusses  at  considerable  length  the 
various  factors  and  agencies  that  contribute  to  the  making  and  unmaking  of  the 
lives  of  men  and  women  in  so  far  as  their  usefulness  to  their  fellow  creatures  is 
concerned.  In  his  treatment  of  these  subjects  he  is  at  all  times  candid  and  fair- 
minded,  in  most  cases  reviewing  both  sides  of  the  question  at  issue."— Chronicle 
Telegraph  (Pittsburg,  Pa.). 

"The  author  writes  with  a  purpose  that  seeks  to  be  exhaustive,  and  to  cover 
much  of  the  field  of  practical  living.  He  is  analytic  and  comprehensive,  and,  above 
all,  scholarly.  He  has  made  a  contribution  in  this  field  of  research  that  will  be 
received  with  enthusiasm,  and  readily  turned  into  the  realm  of  productive  thought." 
— Western  (Methodist)  Christian  Advocate,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 

O.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York  and  London.  Publishers 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY  PROFESSOR  RAYMOND 

Fundamentals  in  Education,  Art,  and  Civics :  Essays  and 
Addresses.     8vo,  cloth.     Net,  $1.40;  by  mail,  $1.53. 

"Of  fascinating  interest  to  cultured  readers,  to  the  student,  the  teacher,  the  poet, 
the  artist,  the  musician,  in  a  word  to  all  lovers  of  sweetness  and  light.  The  author  has 
a  lucid  and  vigorous  style,  and  is  often  strikingly  original.  \V  hat  impresses  one  is 
the  personality  of  a  profound  thinker  and  a  consummate  teacher  behind  every 
paragraph." — Dundee  Courier,  Scotland. 

"  The  articles  cover  a  wide  field  and  manifest  a  uniformly  high  culture  in  every 
field  covered.  It  is  striking  how  this  great  educator  seems  to  have  anticipated  the 
educational  tendencies  of  our  times  some  decades  before  they  imprest  the  rest  of  us. 
He  has  been  a  pathfinder  for  many  younger  men,  and  still  points  the  way  to  higher 
heights.  The  book  is  thoroughly  up-to-date." — Service,  Philadelphia. 

"Clear,  informing,  and  delightfully  readable.  Whether  the  subject  is  art  and 
morals,  technique  in  expression,  or  character  in  a  republic,  each  page  will  be  found 
interesting  and  the  treatment  scholarly,  but  simple,  sane,  and  satisfactory  .  .  .  th< 
story  of  the  Chicago  fire  is  impressingly  vivid. " — Chicago  Standard. 

"He  is  a  philosopher,  whose  encouraging  idealism  is  well  grounded  in  scientific 
study,  and  who  illuminates  points  of  psychology  and  ethics  as  well  as  of  art  when 
they  come  up  in  the  course  of  the  discussion." — The  Scotsman,  Edinburgh,  Scotland. 

"A  scholar  of  wide  learning,  a  teacher  of  experience,  and  a  writer  of  entertaining 
and  convincing  style." — Chicago  Examiner. 

"'The  Mayflower  Pilgrims'  and  'Individual  Character  in  Our  Republic'  call  for 
unstinted  praise.  They  are  interpenetrated  by  a  splendid  patriotism." — Rochester 
Post-Express. 

"Agreeably  popularizes  much  that  is  fundamental  in  theories  of  life  and  thought. 
The  American  people  owe  much  of  their  progress,  their  optimism,  and  we  may  say 
their  happiness  to  the  absorption  of  just  such  ideals  as  Professor  Raymond  stands 
for." — Minneapolis  Book  Review  Digest. 

"They  deal  with  subjects  of  peremiial  interest,  and  with  principles  of  abiding 
importance,  and  they  are  presented  with  the  force  and  lucidity  which  his  readers 
have  come  to  look  for  in  Dr.  Raymond. " — Living  Age,  Boston. 

Suggestions  for  the  Spiritual  Life — College  Chapel  Talks. 

8vo.,  cloth.     Net,  $1.40;  by  mail,  $1.53. 

"Sermons  of  more  than  usual  worth,  full  of  thought  of  the  right  kind,  fresh, 
strong,  direct,  manly.  .  .  .  Not  one  seems  to  strain  to  get  a  young  man's  atten- 
tion by  mere  popular  allusions  to  a  student  environment.  They  are  spiritual, 
scriptural,  of  straight  ethical  import,  meeting  difficulties,  confirming  cravings, 
amplifying  tangled  processes  of  reasoning,  and  riot  forgetting  the  emotions. " — Hart- 
ford Theological  Seminary  Record  (CongregationalistJ. 

"The  clergyman  who  desires  to  reach  young  men  especially,  and  the  teacher  of 
men's  Bible  Classes  may  use  this  collection  of  addresses  to  great  advantage.  .  .  . 
The  subjects  are  those  of  every  man's  experience  in  character  building  .  .  .  such  a 
widespread  handling  of  God's  word  would  have  splendid  results  in  the  production 
of  men." — The  Living  Church  (Episcopalian). 

"Great  themes,  adequately  considered.  .  .  .  Surely  the  young  men  who 
listened  to  these  sermons  must  have  been  stirred  and  helped  by  them  as  we  have 
been  stirred  and  helped  as  we  read  them." — Northfield  (Mass.)  Record  of  Christian 
Work  (Evangelical). 

"They  cover  a  wide  range.  They  are  thoughtful,  original,  literary,  concise, 
condensed,  pithy.  They  deal  with  subjects  in  which  the  young  mind  will  be  inter- 
ested." — Western  Christian  Advocate  (Methodist). 

"Vigorous  thought,  vigorously  expressed.  One  is  impressed  by  the  moderation 
and  sanity  of  the  teachings  here  set  forth  and  scholarly  self-restraint  in  statement. 
Back  of  them  is  not  only  a  believing  mind,  but  genuine  learning  and  much  hard 
thinking." — Lutheran  Observer. 

"  Though  most  of  the  addresses  were  prepared  over  forty  years  ago  ...  no 
chapter  in  the  book  seems  to  be  either  'old-fogyish'  or  'unorthodox.'  " — The  Watch- 
man (Boston,  Baptist). 

"The  preacher  will  find  excellent  models  for  his  work  and  stimulating  thought  .  .  . 
attractively  presented  and  illustrated.  .  .  .  The  addresses  are  scholarly  and 
especially  adapted  to  cultivated  minds.  They  show  evidence  of  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  modern  science  and  sympathy  with  modern  ideas." — Springfield  (Mass.) 
Republican. 

"Beautiful  and  inspiring  discourses  .  .  .  embody  the  ripe  conviction  of  a  mind 
of  exceptional  refinement,  scholarship,  and  power  ...  a  psychologist,  a  phil- 
osopher, and  a  poet. " — N.  Y.  Literary  Digest. 

"Never  was  such  a  book  more  needed  by  young  men  than  just  now." — Philadel- 
phia Public  Ledger. 

FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY,  Pubs.  New  York  and  London, 


Other  Books  by  Professor  Raymond 


The  Psychology  of  Inspiration.     8vo.,  cloth.    (New  Revised 
Edition).     Net,  $2.00;  by  mail,  $2.14. 

The  book  founds  its  conclusions  on  a  study  of  the  action  of  the  human  mind  when 
obtaining  and  expressing  truth,  as  this  action  has  been  revealed  through  the  most 
recent  investigations  of  physiplogical,  psychological,  and  psychic  research;  and  the 
freshne.-j  :.nd  originality  of  the  presentation  is  acknowledged  and  commended  by 
such  authorities  as  Dr.  J.  Mark  Baldwin,  Professor  of  Psychology  in  Johns  Hopkins 
University,  who  says  that  its  psychological  position  is  "new  and  valuable";  Dr. 
W.  T.  Harris,  late  United  States  Commissioner  of  Education  and  the  foremost 
metaphysician  in  the  country,  who  says  it  is  sure  "to  prove  helpful  to  many  who 
find  themselves  on  the  border  line  between  the  Christian  and  the  non-Christian 
beliefs";  and  Dr.  Edward  Everett  Hale,  who  says  that  "no  one  has  approached  the 
subject  from  this  point  of  view."  He  characterizes  it,  too,  as  an  "endeavor  to 
formulate  conceptions  that  almost  every  Christian  to-day  believes,  but  without  know- 
ing why  he  d^es  so."  As  thus  intimated  by  Dr.  Hale,  the  book  is  not  a  mere  con- 
tribution to  apologetics — not  a  mere  defense  of  Christianity.  It  contains  a  formula- 
tion of  principles  that  underlie  all  rational  interpretation  of  all  forms  of  revealed 
religion.  These  principles  are  applied  in  the  book  to  Christian  doctrine,  faith,  and 
conduct;  to  the  services,  discipline,  and  unity  of  the  church:  and  to  the  methods  of 
insuring  success  in  missionary  enterprise.  It  strives  to  reveal  b9th  the  truth  and  the 
error  that  are  in  such  systems  of  thought  as  are  developed  in  AGNOSTICISM, 
PRAGMATISM,  MODERNISM,  THEOSOPHY,  SPIRITUALISM,  AND  CHRIS- 
TIAN SCIENCE. 

The  first  and,  perhaps,  the  most  important  achievement  of  the  book  is  to  show 
that  the  fact  of  inspiration  can  be  demonstrated  scientifically;  in  other  words,  that 
the  inner  subconscious  mind  can  be  influenced  irrespective  of  influences  exerted 
through  the  eyes  and  the  ears,  *'.  e.,  by  what  one  sees  or  hears.  In  connection  with 
this  fact  it  is  also  shown  that,  when  the  mind  is  thus  inwardly  or  inspirationally 
influenced,  as,  for  example,  in  hypnotism,  the  influence  is  suggestive  and  not  dicta- 
torial. As  a  result,  the  inspired  person  presents  the  truth  given  him  not  according 
to  the  letter,  but  according  to  the  spirit.  His  object  is  not  to  deal  with  facts  and  impart 
knowledge,  as  science  does.  This  would  lead  men  to  walk  by  sight.  His  object  is 
to  deal  with  principles,  and  these  may  frequently  be  illustrated  just  as  accurately  by 
apparent,  or,  as  in  the  case  of  the  parable,  by  imagined  circumstances,  as  by  actual 
ones.  For  this  reason,  many  of  the  scientific  and  historical  so-called  "objections" 
to  the  Bible  need  not  be  answered  categorically.  Not  only  so,  but  such  faith  as  it  is 
natural  and  right  that  a  rational  being  should  exercise  can  be  stimulated  and  devel- 
oped in  only  the  degree  in  which  the  text  of  a  sacred  book  is  characterized  by  the 
very  vagueness  and  variety  of  meaning  and  statement  which  the  higher  criticism 
of  the  Bible  has  brought  to  light.  The  book  traces  these  to  the  operation  and  re- 
quirements of  the  human  mind  through  which  inspiration  is  received  and  to  which 
it  is  imparted.  Whatever  inspires  must  appear  to  be,  in  some  way,  beyond  the  grasp 
of  him  who  communicates  it,  and  can  make  him  who  hears  it  think  and  train  him  to 
think,  in  the  degree  only  in  which  it  is  not  comprehensive  or  complete;  but  merely, 
like  everything  else  in  nature,  illustrative  of  that  portion  of  truth  which  the  mind 
needs  to  be  made  to  find  out  for  itself. 


"A  book  that  everybody  should  read  .  .  .  medicinal  for  prof est  Christians,  and 
full  of  guidance  and  encouragement  for  those  finding  themselves  somewhere  between 
the  desert  and  the  town.  The  sane,  fair,  kindly  attitude  taken  gives  of  itself  a 
profitable  lesson.  The  author  proves  conclusively  that  his  mind — and  if  his,  why 
not  another's? — can  be  at  one  and  the  same  time  sound,  sanitary,  scientific,  and 
essentially  religious." — The  Examiner,  Chicago. 

"The  author  writes  with  logic  and  a  'sweet  reasonableness'  that  will  doubtless 
convince  many  halting  minds.  It  is  an  inspiring  book." — Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"It  is,  we  think,  difficult  to  overestimate  the  value  of  this  volume  at  the  present 
critical  pass  in  the  history  of  Christianity." — The  Arena,  Boston. 

"The  author  has  taken  up  a  task  calling  for  heroic  effort,  and  has  given  us  a  volume 
worthy  of  careful  study.  .  .  .  The  conclusion  is  certainly  very  reasonable."-— 
Christian  Intelligencer,  New  York. 

"Interesting,  suggestive,  helpful," — Boston  Congregationalism 

"Thoughtful,  reverent,  suggestive." — Lutheran  Observer,  Philadelphia. 

"Professor  Raymond  is  a  clear  thinker,  an  able  writer,  and  an  earnest  Christian, 
and  his  book  is  calculated  to  be  greatly  helpful  to  those  in  particular  who,  brought  up 
in  the  Christian  faith,  find  it  impossible  longer  to  reconcile  the  teachings  of  the 
Church  with  the  results  of  modern  scientific  thought. " — Newark  (  N.  J.)  Evening 
News. 

FUNK  £  W  AGN  ALLS  COMPANY,  Pubs..  New  York  and  London 


